Rainy Days
by xxbittersweet
Summary: Love can be very painful, especially when it's dangled in front of you. Harry is going insane knowing he'll have to be the best friend of Hermione all his life and never say a word. Can he tell her without ruining both their lives in the process? H/Hr
1. Absurdly Inopportune

**Author's Note:**

**Well, looks like i'm here again. Good grief, it's been a while. **

**I hope you enjoy this story, it's been idling away at the back of my mind and I finally decided to do something with my time on school break. **

**Remember, reviews make the world go round, and it's easier to complete chapters when people spur me on with their well wishes. **

**The title is still in progress, mind you. I'm not sure if I completely like it yet. **

**Anywho, enough talking, more reading!**

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**Rainy Days**

**By xxbittersweet**

**Chapter One – Absurdly Inopportune**

It was raining. Again.

Was that the only weather this God forsaken country knew? It was ridiculous.

_Pat. Pat. Pat. _

He could hear the tinkle of water dripping down the roof and watched as the droplets travelled past his dark and glossy windows. They slid randomly, with no apparent care as to which direction, down his window pane and out of sight.

The night was cold and bitter. Grateful for the warmth of the fire he stretched out in front of it at ease, reading a book. He felt rather like Hermione. It seemed like a 'her' thing, confiding in a book because of the lack of anything constructive to do.

_Hermione. _

Just today he had sat at their spot, in that same café in the secluded and quieter end of town, smiling back at her so familiar face. She had been wearing a long cream turtleneck, the one she wore for deaden days such as this. There was a certain way to her, in which he knew she was content with their mid morning meeting. They didn't need to talk, if it was not called upon, they were comfortable just sitting. If chatter was the outcome, it was light and carefree, regardless of their lives outside those walls. The long sleeves of her too-big jumper curled around her fingers, with only just enough exposed to grasp the mug firmly in her small hands. Her shoes lay discarded underneath the table and her legs crossed themselves in the little space she had on her favourite couch. Her eyes remained bright and sparkling despite the cold, and they both knew that they could sit here for a lifetime and never be disturbed by the wizarding world. They were at peace.

This was how it always was, and Harry _never_ wanted it to change.

'So there I was, standing in the doorway and staring at them in a _very_ compromising position, if you catch my drift…'

He watched as his elaborate retelling was received. Hermione was shaking with laughter, clutching her sides and rolling about her seat. She only laughed like that at _his_ jokes, and he silently grinned to himself at the sight of her, in such a state of good humoured hysteria and disarray.

It was common knowledge that Hermione Granger took herself too seriously. High strung and often buried in her work, she seemed to rarely have the time to laugh anymore. She had never dealt well with stress, as Harry very well knew. And, to make matters worse, the stress seemed to be smothering her in elaborate amounts these recent weeks.

It was seemingly impossible for anyone to work harder or longer than Hermione did. She was first one there in the morning and last to leave at night, had never once missed a day of work, never asked for a pay rise and yet still managed to remember everybody's birthdays. If that was not enough, she was present at every single Sunday brunch at The Burrow with a cheerful smile on her pretty little face. Though on that particular note, Harry did not fail to notice the weary bags that had begun to slowly creep beneath her eyes. Yes, it was fair to say that Hermione Granger had an excuse for taking herself too seriously.

Additionally, there was one other aspect of her existence that made Hermione particularly agitated these days. That, unfortunately, took the form of flaming red hair and freckles, and the third of the Golden trio, Ronald Weasley.

Harry loved Ron, he really did. Closer than brothers, the pair could safely agree that they had been through more than enough struggles to call their friendship and secured one. Yes, Ron might be called immature and it was no news to anyone that he was rash, unethical and downright unreasonable, but he wasn't a bad bloke. Ron was just a tad rough around the edges. He was, after all, Harry's best mate. However, Ron and _Hermione_ were a whole different story. In passing conversation, Harry could confidently say that nothing had changed since their time at Hogwarts. If anything, it had gotten even more disastrous.

In short, Harry was extremely over it. You would think a person as intelligent as Hermione could see that the relationship was going absolutely nowhere.

But apparently not.

No, yet again the dynamic pair went ploughing on, ignoring Harry's polite insistence. It was rather like watching two people stumbling around in the dark while refusing to accept a flashlight.

It also seemed that the more hours went into the fighting and the screaming and the _effort_, the progressively worse it seemed to get. And, as nothing had changed since Hogwarts, Harry was still resolutely rammed in between them.

In the beginning, Hermione could handle it. She was a big girl, and let's face it, no one could say that she didn't have the nerve. However, as the months dragged on, and they grew up, the charade became more and more tiresome. A girl could only handle so much of Ron whilst having Hermione's short temper. The worst part was that Harry could _see_ that she loved him. He could see that she genuinely wanted it to work and _boy_, did she try. But though she might wish it with every fibre of her being, some things were never meant to be.

Unfortunately for them, their relationship was one of those things.

The problem was, they were completely and utterly oblivious to that fact, and Harry found it highly inconvenient.

So Harry had come to the conclusion that it was up to him to provide the good humour in his best friend's day, and had hence taken up the role with considerable gusto. The good news was that it seemed to be working, though he wasn't sure for how long his silly jokes and happy-go-lucky temperament would last, before she finally cracked, and the Golden trio became no more.

Harry wanted more than anything in the word for his two best friends to remain so till the day he died, but it was considerably difficult when they continued on this ludicrous rampage, ignoring his wistful warnings. Ron was becoming more easily irritated, and rarely stopped by Harry's house anymore, unless they had confirmed Hermione was not going to be there. Whenever Harry might ask after Ron's relationship, he would mumble a few incoherent words and change the subject, or else bombard Harry with reasons as to why he was right and she, wrong.

Though he would never take sides, it was hard to rationalise Ron's point of view when he surveyed the weary, deflated looking profile of Hermione. She just looked so _tired_ these days. Tired of the fighting, tired of the stress. Of course she would never admit it to Harry, for her Granger stubbornness was that of legend, but he knew nonetheless. He could not claim to have befriended her and remained her most beloved companion since the age of eleven if he didn't. Some things were better left unsaid. In any case, Harry and Hermione's friendship was strong enough that they didn't need to ask. They already knew.

It was this particular bond that made their mid-morning pit stop so successful. At exactly eleven fifty in the morning, the door to the little café would tinkle cheerfully and allow passage to Harry, who would stride down to the farthest end and occupy the two squashy couches that most tended to ignore. He would fling a jacket over the small table in front of him and open the newspaper that had been tucked in his back pocket. A quiet but seldom irritated young waitress of around twenty seven years old would wander over, knowing she was in no hurry to reach his table. After fiddling with her notepad and grasping the pen behind her ear she would take his order with a polite but knowing look upon her face. He gave her a brief smile and she would walk away with a short nod of the head. By this time, usually eleven fifty eight, Harry would hear the sound of the door bell once more, and Hermione would bustle into view, her cheeks slightly pink from the cold. She would pull her scarf from her neck and fold it neatly before collapsing on the couch opposite and giving Harry a glittering smile.

This was their routine, once a day, every day. The exception was of course, Mrs Weasley's Sunday brunch. Though it was only forty five minutes of their day, both would be lost if it weren't for this moment in which Hermione would fold Harry's jacket automatically and he have her hot chocolate steaming and ready by the time she had settled. It was their time to sit and merely enjoy each other's company.

Though on this particular day, Hermione had seemed…_different_. Her smile, still honest and true had looked faltered or slightly strained, and she was quieter. To Harry, he had been greatly relieved when he had gotten her to laugh, and even then it had taken a good twenty five minutes to get his best friend to loosen up.

It was getting harder and harder to hear that soft chuckle of hers that she gave in spite of herself, or the shake of her shoulders whilst appreciating his company. Harry knew it wasn't anything to do with him, and the fact that he had to stand here and do nothing caused an increasingly bothersome effect in the pit of his stomach.

When she had got up to leave, after giving Harry a brief glare for stealing the bill from under her finger and re-wrapping her scarf around her neck, they walked to the door together and nodded once at the lady making coffee, stopping only when the tinkling tune of the door had ceased behind them. Hermione fumbled for the handle of her handbag briefly before gazing up at Harry and smiling appreciatively. He nudged her gently and shrugged into his jacket as a result of the new and brisk breeze.

"Well," she sighed, nudging him back. "See you later, and don't forget to tell Neville that I'll stop by to-

'Hey 'Mione,' Harry interrupted, looking down at her with a piercing gaze. His tone reflected something that had been on his mind for a long time, and importance seeped out of his every word.

'Take care of yourself, okay?'

Hermione stopped bustling about her pockets and met his eyes with a small, surprised look. He could tell she was trying to decipher his face but he stood his ground, and her expression softened, comprehension dawning on her face. With her smile clearly faltered, she looked at him for a long moment before flinging her arms around his neck in a tight hug. No explanation was needed, and neither bothered to ask. They already knew.

'I will,' she whispered in his ear before retreating. With one final wave, she had turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

What with Hermione so frantic and Ron so distant, Harry felt a tad lost. He was supposed to be the rock in the middle of their bickering, but how could he be trusted to do that when he felt so off balance?

He sighed and closed the book he had barely begun, not surprised that he had scarcely made it through the first few pages. Harry rarely had his mind in one place at the moment. The fire crackled softly and disturbed his thoughts briefly. He needed to stop worrying about her. No good would come of it, that he was sure. Harry spent the majority of the day thinking about Hermione, whether conscious or unconscious. Additionally, when he wasn't thinking about Hermione he was _with _Hermione, something Ron had been quick to notice.

He had thought Ron had gotten over the petty jealousy he had had for Harry's fame and fortune a long time ago, but sometimes he could see the teenage Ron poking through. It was _uncomfortable_, greeting Hermione with a kiss on the check at Sunday brunch and knowing Ron's suspicious eyes were boring in to the back of his head. How many times had Hermione complained to him about Ron's newest distrust of the new guy three apartments down or someone who might have smiled at her while passing in the street?

The main thing idling away in Harry's head was that the _whole _situationmade him uncomfortable. However, it was not because he was afraid of being a third wheel, or being the barge between them. Neither was it the continuous worry he had for Hermione's well being.

The reason for Harry's troublesome feeling was that he was involuntarily and ridiculously in love with her.

It was absurdly inopportune.

Now, you might think; 'Well then, why not just tell her, you prat.', but it merely wasn't that simple. No, Harry James Potter, The-boy-who-lived, conqueror of the Dark Lord and saviour of the world was not able to utter a word.

Why? Because he was scared shitless.

That, and the fact that she was his best friend, was dating his _other _best friend, and most definitely did not need another complication like that in her life.

So, Harry did the honourable and cowardly thing. He stayed well out of it, put on a brave face and was there to catch Hermione when she fell.

For now, that would have to be enough.

Or so he kept telling himself.

**Hope you liked it! If you did, PLEASE review. Thank you!**

**xx Abs**


	2. Emotional Turmoil

**Author's Note - Thank you for the feedback I got on my first chapter! Most was fairly positive, and I changed the summary due to request, please let me know if you think it was for the better or worse. **

**Here's your second chapter, please comment if you have the time! :)**

**Enjoy!**

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**Rainy Days  
By xxbittersweet  
Chapter Two - Emotional Turmoil**

Harry really was no use to anyone when his mind was fixated on Hermione. Which these days, was most of the time. Fortunately for him though, he was very good at covering it up. As far as anyone else was concerned, Harry was a dazed and confused young man who had yet to find his place in life. They were half right. Harry _was_ dazed and confused, but he knew _exactly_ what he wanted.

That was where he hit a slight snag.

It was extremely frustrating, having something dangled in front of you, and Harry had never really experienced that before. It was an odd feeling, and he did not like it one bit.

Harry saw Hermione every day, knew her better than anyone else on the planet, and had no hesitation in saying that she felt the same way. Their friendship was unbreakable and in many ways far stronger and more personal that Harry could ever be with Ron. Yet Harry still felt empty. Every moment he spent with her was both blissful and excruciating; she always left him thinking he would do anything to have one instant more. It was slowly killing him inside to know that he would leave everything he knew behind in a second if it meant being with her.

But she wasn't his to have, and that knowledge hurt worst of all.

If it had been anyone, _anyone_ other than Ron.

It was Ron, though, and no amount of sulking or jealously was going to change the fact that she was his, and not Harry's.

He knew that, and he didn't need reminding. It didn't stop the thoughts, however, the ones flowing through his head like molten lava. They were selfish and irrational, and so utterly unlike him.

Ron didn't _deserve_ her. He didn't treat her the way he should. Hermione was worth so much more than that. Why didn't she see that he would give her everything, spend his life trying to make her happy in a way that Ron never did? He could show her what love was _really_ like.

Harry was disgusted with himself for even thinking that way. Hermione was not a thing to be owned, hell; she could hardly be contained as it was. Her firecracker personality was what got to be at loggerheads with Ron in the first place. On, off, on off. He could never keep track when it came to Ron and Hermione. They had more twists and turns in their relationship than a rollercoaster. Harry had lost count. Ever since they'd gotten together in their last year at Hogwarts, Harry had doubts, but he hadn't said anything. It had taken them so long to get started in the first place and in any case, he wasn't in love with her then.

He was _now_, though, and it didn't stop him from wishing he had done something earlier.

It started out as a just a feeling, a familiarity whenever she walked into the room. He felt so at ease, so relaxed, a feeling he never got from anyone else. At that stage, he didn't recognise it for what it was. Then he began to take Hermione's side in her arguments with Ron, a thing he thought he would never do. When weighed up next to each other, Harry considered Ron to be the one who could cope better with the fighting, so he became Hermione's rock to lean on when she needed it.

Harry had always been protective over Hermione, but he had also known that she could take care of herself. It was only when he aimed to protect her when she didn't need nor ask for it, but merely because it was _her_, that he knew something was up.

It had been so subtle, Harry couldn't really be sure that it had happened. They had been sitting at their usual café spot, laughing at an old memory of Hogwarts without a care in the world. Then, in a split second, Harry did a double take.

_He loved Hermione._

Harry was head over heels, completely and utterly, heart wrenchingly, earth shatteringly and fantastically in love with his best friend.

Time seem to slow and he stared, open mouthed at her as she threw her head back in laughter, the light catching her teeth. She positively sparkles before him. She was like an angel descending from heaven, a goddess forced to remain in a human form, and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Crap.

_Hermione? _As in, Hermione Granger? _His_ Hermione? Surely not. Was that even allowed?

Harry had hoped that it was merely an infatuation. Every male unconsciously considers a relationship with their best friend at some point, right? It would surely pass; he was obviously just appreciating Hermione as a friend. There was no crime in admitting she was attractive. It would all blow over soon enough.

But it didn't blow over. Once Harry had realised, he began to appreciate all the other things about her too. Like how she would chew the nub of her quill when working, or else gnaw the end off the straw from her drink. If either were absent, her lip would do. Harry found it extremely painful to watch as her teeth would manoeuvre and mould, while her tongue positioned. It was a challenge to keep the focus relative to her working state as oppose to…a different situation.

Or like when she was thinking about something problematic, how she reached up and ran a hand through her hair with a rough tendency so strands fell out of place and pieces were left sticking out and ruffled. Harry thought it made her look positively wild, and that did nothing to distract him either.

Or perhaps the more simple things, like Mr Weasley's birthday in which she would drop by with a singing card and a toy aeroplane, or saving all her postage stamps for Neville's collection. No matter how busy or tired she was, she never stopped thinking about everyone else. How she fitted all of it in was beyond Harry, but the fact that she did it because she _didn't_ have to was what brought a smile to Harry's face.

So, here he was in knee-deep trouble, with absolutely no way out. There was no off switch, and though he had gone through a phase of trying to ignore it, in the end he gave up. He had considered modifying his own memory, but for some reason that seemed a bit extreme.

From then on Harry had lived on in emotional turmoil. Mortified at his sudden outburst of feelings he concluded that he had three options.

1. Tell Hermione how he felt, however embarrassing or nerve-wracking that might be. The Pro's, it could work in his favour, Hermione could confess her long time feelings for him, Ron would be jubilant at their finding each other and he henceforth spends the night having hot and passionate sex with the love of his life. The Con's, Hermione might be horrified, accuse him of blasphemy and send Ron to Avada Kedavra his ass.

2. He kept quiet and remained 'The best friend' for the rest of their life. The Pro's, no Avada Kedavra-ing and two best friends. The Con's, inner conflict with himself that threatened to explode into insanity at any given moment.

3. Move to Switzerland. The Pro's, an easy way to solve all problems. The Con's, a tad drastic, and he did not particularly like Switzerland.

He had been highly tempted to choose the third option, but decided against it. Hermione would most likely track him down and _then_ what would his excuse be?

The first option was...out of the question, and Harry subsequently named himself coward of the century. There was so much room for error with that selection, and he thought it preferable to wait until an opportunity cropped up that he could seize.

So, that left only option two. Harry didn't like it, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances, so he rolled with it. It had taken some getting used to and granted, he slipped up occasionally but all in all it worked pretty well. What he hadn't counted on was the obsession.

It was kind of like sticking a jar of cookies on a tall shelf and telling a kid he can have one later if he's really well behaved. So the kid sits there at the table waiting to be told he can grab one until its all he ever thinks about. He lives and breathes it, waiting for that moment in which he can reach up and take it.

Harry was that kid, and he was going insane.

It was getting progressively worse, so Harry decided to go and visit the one person who magically knew his secret, because she apparently knew everything there was know about anything strange and confusing.

'Good Morning, Harry' Luna said dreamily, looking up from her ridiculously large watering can to smile at him. 'I was wondering when you would call here again.'

'Morning Luna' Harry replied, hopping from one paving stone to the next in an attempt to reach her. 'How have you been?'

He avoided a rather ferocious pair of weed cutters that were making their way across his path and sat himself down on the nearby swing hanging from a tree.

'Oh, rather well, thank you' she said, poking her head out of the large sunflower patch she was deluged in. With her bright blonde hair and oddly frilly green dress she looked like one of the flowers. 'I found a horrible infestation of Wrackspurt in my dining room last week though, I should have known when the Postman turned up looking particularly saddened, it's a clear symptom, you know.'

'Really?' Harry grinned, twisting the swing's ropes from side to side. Luna was always good value. 'What does a Wrackspurt look like?'

'Oh, it depends' said Luna, and Harry noticed she had the odd twig of leaves sticking out of her hair. 'They're mostly invisible, but they have terribly sharp little horns. If you ever get pins and needles Harry, beware, and treat your house immediately.'

Harry always enjoyed talking to Luna Lovegood immensely. She was guaranteed to brighten up his day no matter the circumstance, and he shared a rather odd bond with her that made their friendship quite an unusual one.

He lifted his feet off the ground momentarily to allow the weed cutters passage once again and watched as Luna retreated backwards out of the flower patch on her hands and knees. She kneeled upright, cocked an ear towards him as if listening intently for something and then tutted to herself.

'It's getting worse, then?' She questioned, poking around in the soil for something. 'Careful with that one, Harry, it gets grumpy in the early morning.'

Harry quickly retracted his finger from what appeared to be a large, pulsating hibiscus and watched as it emitted a snarl and brandished itself towards him. 'Yeah,' he murmured, taking his eyes off the growling plant and focusing once again on Luna. 'It's been harder for her lately, I think. They're getting pretty bad now.'

'But how are _you_, Harry?' She inquired, staring at him with her large glassy eyes.

He shrugged and fiddled with some bark on the tree. He could feel Luna's eyes on him. There was a small paused silence, and Harry saw no choice but to give in to her stare.

'It's hard to sit back and watch it all. I feel like I should be doing something to protect her. He's going…he's going to hurt her, Luna. He's going to hurt her really bad, and it kills me to know I can't be there to save her.'

Harry stared resolutely down at his shoes and saw a wand being waved out of the corner of his eye. Luna say down on her newly conjured stool in front of him and leant her elbows on her knees thoughtfully.

'You know,' she said, picking leaves out of her long plait. 'Hermione might not be smart enough to recognise a Misty-eyed Spingler when she sees one,' Harry smirked at this comment on what Hermione would say if she heard about the Misty-eyed Spingler; 'but she can take care of herself. You can't always be there to fight her battles for her, Harry.'

Harry didn't look at her. He stared stubbornly at the grass beneath his feet, knowing she was right.

'I can try.' He mumbled, digging his shoes into the dirt.

'Everyone needs to learn from their mistakes.' Luna replied gently. 'Even Hermione, but you have to give her the chance.'

'So I stand here and wait for it all to come crashing down on her?' Harry accused, looking up at Luna who was giving him her familiar unblinking stare.

'That's life Harry.' She stated simply. 'Be there for her when she needs you, like you always have, and she'll thank you for it later. Trust me.'

Harry sighed and got up from the swing, watching as Luna retreated back to her patch of sunflowers. He began to make his way up the paving stones once more before he turned, and looked back upon the frilly green dress that was rummaging through the leaves.

'Hey, Luna, how's things with Ron?'

She paused and then turned on her knees to gaze up at Harry. 'Ronald is finding it harder too, but he'll get through it. He has a wonderful sense of recovery.' She said admiringly, knotting her fingers together.

'But how are _you_, Luna?' Harry asked finally, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his green eyes searching hers for something remotely like what he was going through.

Luna twisted back to her garden and clipped the stem of a large sunflower. Getting up from her crouched position she placed it in Harry's shirt buttonhole, smiling vaguely.

'Oh, I get by.' She said, fiddling with the flower's petals. 'I am his friend when he needs me, and for now, that is enough.'

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**Hope you enjoyed, and please review :)**

**xx Abs**


	3. Lightning Storms

**A/N – Guh, sorry for the longer wait on this one guys, break is over and I'm back at school again (joy) so I sadly won't be updating as often. Ideally I'd live to have a chapter up every week and a half or something, but don't hold me to that xD I'm dreadful at keeping deadlines. **

**Thank you to all my wonderful feedback, I was really motivated with the reviews I received. Please keep them coming, its great to see how my fics are received by the people who know best!**

**PS – In this it mentions Hermione using a mobile phone, and I know you might consider this unlikely in the wizarding world, but really, when has it ever been said that it ISN'T used? In any case, it seemed practical, given that a mobile would probably be more efficient than flooing or what have you. ANYWHO, that's the reason its there. …xD**

**Please enjoy! :) **

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**Rainy Days  
Chapter 3 - Lightning Storms  
By xxbittersweet**

It was cold and dark tonight. The blackness of the night stretched aimlessly over Harry's now invisible front lawn. He gazed at his glassy window, watching as the sky lit up before his eyes, the clouds crashing menacingly above him.

Rain. Typical.

The late night movie played enthusiastically in the background and illuminated the four walls with its colours, altering every few seconds deftly. Its sound carried about the house, rebounding off the walls until it reached Harry's ears. Within the kitchen the audio emitting from the other room seemed muffled as he attempted to catch what the characters were saying.

The familiar chime of his microwave sounded and he removed the container of leftover food, stabbing a fork into its contents as he returned to his movie.

The entertainment was doing its job, if not for a brief hour or two. It had succeeded in moving Harry's thoughts elsewhere and away from Hermione, for that he was grateful. Reminders of her rich, vanilla scented skin continued to probe his mind whenever there was a deadline task before him. It had been a stressful day.

He adjusted his position on the couch and groaned, pitying himself for his aches and pains. Auror training might get him where he wanted to be but it didn't mean it was easy, and his fresh rows of spell induced bruises were a clear display of this.

Harry never thought he, Ron and Hermione would all end up in ministry jobs, especially considering their colourful history but here they were. He, Harry, was obviously training to be an Auror. There wasn't much else he had ever expected himself to do and in any case, he preferred the stay in the loop with Ministry doings.

Ron worked with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Quidditch division, with no surprised looks from anyone. It hadn't taken long for even Ron to realize that as much as he dreamed of becoming a star Quidditch player, there was only so far he could go. It wasn't a stopper in the works though, Ron was content with applying for a position near his love of the sport. Being the right hand man at Harry Potter's side in the war against You-know-who had finally worked in his favor and the department had snatched him up without delay. He now worked with merchandise and advertising, which suited him just fine. It allowed his star stuck personality to shine through and Harry enjoyed watching Ron hastily ask for autographs from his favourite players at every game and conference.

Hermione was long a member of the Department of International Magical Co-operation and of course did a wonderful job. Her no fuss, initiative nature proved to be an impermeable asset to the division, not to mention how quickly she had picked up over hundreds of wizard and creature languages alike. To the Ministry, Hermione was like a dream come true. However good she was at her job, it had the major flaw of no distinct work hours so she was often up all night discussing international artifacts in French or Chinese. Harry had once caught her debating heatedly into her mobile phone in what sounded like mermish. A fight with Hermione Granger in a language that was derived mostly from wails and shrieks did not appeal to Harry at all. But, she seemed to like it and it certainly kept her busy.

Harry was glad that they were all still as close as they were in Hogwarts. Nothing had changed, the 'crew' were still together, though perhaps not as regularly as they had been used to. He even saw Ginny and Neville occasionally. Harry often missed Hogwarts, wished he could still call its stone walls and familiar long passageways home but he had no complaints, his small dwelling near town gave him the independence he had always craved.

He was thrown back into reality when an explosion erupted dramatically on his television screen, and for a while he sat in silence and contentedly watched the movie, eating vaguely from his plastic container.

It was then that Hedwig chose to appear from out of the night sky and tap nattily on the window with her beak, a shining white against the dark background. Harry heaved himself off the lounge and lifted the pane's handle firmly, listening as the unprotected space howled with rain and wind before he muffled it by closing the window smartly. Hedwig soared over his head and perched on the coffee table, shaking her feathers about so Harry was splattered with rain.

'Watch it!' he laughed, shielding himself from her complimentary shower. She stared unblinkingly at him in an indignant sort of fashion, as if blaming him for the outside weather. A few letters were dropped on the table for him and without another thought she waddled over to his leftover lasagna and began helping herself. Harry rifled through his mail, bypassing a few Quidditch catalogues and tearing open a letter with the handwriting of Ginny. He sat there for a few minutes reading her note and smiling at her dry humored description of the days events, but frowned when it came to phrases like _'worried', 'Ron not himself', 'Hermione on edge' _and_ 'couldn't you do something?'. _

So other people were noticing it too. It seemed that Ron and Hermione hadn't been as good at hiding their problems as they had thought. It didn't take a genius too see something was up, they weren't being entirely discreet. It comforted him to know that at least he wasn't being paranoid.

Thunder rumbled menacingly above him as he finished Ginny's letter and he saw Hedwig flinch at the noise. A sudden crack erupted from outside and Harry paused to listen, frozen solid, a fork still poised in his hand. That hadn't been lightning; he knew the sound of apparition in an instant, but who on earth would be visiting at this time of night in the pouring rain?

Harry slowly pushed himself from his sofa and proceeded towards his front door cautiously, drawing his wand. Sure enough, he heard the crunch of feet on gravel, and then on steps.Suspicion seeped through his limbs and though his head told him there was nothing to fear his heart pounded, reading for a fight. Years of death eaters would have that affect on anyone. By the time he had reached his door the harsh rapping of knuckles on wood rattled his ears drums, and he turned the glossy handle without further ado.

As his door swung open, he found himself face to face with Hermione.

Harry lowered his wand immediately as her eyes flickered upward from the floor to meet his gaze. His heart plummeted when he saw the streaked mascara lines under her eyes and the water dripping off her saturated wet figure. He surveyed her closely, waiting for some sign that this had been Ron's doing. At that very moment, he wanted to hurt Ron. He wanted to punish him for ever, _ever_, making Hermione akin to this; he didn't give a damn about the consequences. He felt angry at himself that she had had to go through this without his help. He hadn't saved her, for that he would never forgive himself. Screw Luna's words of advice, if his interference kept Hermione safe then he would do it without blinking from now on. Harry was a fast learner, he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

She looked so incredibly _small._

Harry had singled her out as many things, but small was never one of them. Hermione usually acted about as small as a tiger waiting for its chance to strike.

But she looked _tiny_ at the moment.

A quivering, quiet voice that seemed to be using all its strength to keep calm spoke from her mouth in a way that was so unlike her Harry was momentarily stunned.

'May I come in?'

Harry stuffed his wand into his pocket and Hermione instantly shuffled towards his body, clutching him around the waist. As he felt her head bury into his chest he sighed and held her close. She began to cry silently and he averted his eyes to prevent seeing the violent shake of her shoulders. There was nothing worse than seeing Hermione cry, it gave him a bleeding, stinging sensation in the pit of his stomach. Without hesitation he lifted her from their place in the doorway, shutting the door carelessly with his foot and carrying her swiftly over to the couch. He gently sat down and allowed her to cry into his shirt, her fingers curling around bits of material desperately.

He was the best friend; this was what he was there for.

At that moment, Harry wasn't thinking about what he wanted with Hermione. In fact, he completely forgot about that aspect altogether. It didn't matter. Right that second, he was just Harry, she was just Hermione. They were just best friends who didn't need to ask, they already knew. It was a reassurance to him to know that if he hadn't saved her the pain she had just been though, he could at least try to save her now.

They sat there for a long time. It was only when Hermione was reduced to merely sitting in his lap and staring at the wall in front of her eyes did he decide it was safe to speak.

'Listen,' he began, shifting so that he could peek down at her face. He gazed at the soft creases in her nose as she crinkled it in distaste. Apparently she had been under the impression that if she lay still enough he would forget her presence. 'I was just making myself a hot chocolate when you came, you want one?'

Hermione looked up into his face for a moment and gave a small sigh before nodding approvingly. 'I would _love _one.' She said, crawling off him and taking refuge with a cushion that lay abandoned on the floor.

Harry smiled at her before silently retreated to the kitchen. He was very tense, it seemed like a wrong move would scare her away, she looked so fragile. He didn't know when her emotions might snap at a time like this. She was like a skittish animal to him, flinched whenever he spoke, and this was foreign territory. He couldn't say he had ever had a sobbing woman take refuge on his couch before, much less Hermione.

_Hermione._

The brains, the conscience. The sensible, practical, strong one.

Perhaps he would play this one by ear. Dangerous, yes, but he thought he knew Hermione well enough to test her emotions without too much difficulty. Or at least he thought he did.

The sound of his footsteps on the carpeted floor made her jump but he gave her a reassuring smile and handed her the steaming mug. She took it graciously though drew it close to her chest, as if it was a comforting friend. Taking a long sip she let her lids shut lazily and sighed in contentment, opening her eyes to incline her head thankfully to him. Harry had barely sat down when the mug was out of her hands and into his. She opened her mouth to protest but Harry cut her off.

'You can have this _after_ you go get changed out of those wet clothes.' He commented, looking critically over the soaked clothing that clung to her small figure. Hermione whimpered and made a grasping movement towards the drink in Harry's hand before succumbing to his gaze and trudging out of sight. He could hear the heavy thumps of her feet ascending the stairs and the door of his room closing with a snap.

With a heaving intake of breath he returned to the kitchen and reheated second helpings of leftover lasagna, hearing Hermione coming down the stairs as he returned. She clutched her sides, hugging herself absentmindedly as she descended. Jumping onto the couch once again she snatched her mug from the side table and paused before patting the seat next to her expectantly. Harry joined her and watched as she immediately curled up on his lap once again and ravaged the container he had given her until there was nothing left.

Once the food had been eaten and drinks devoured, Harry couldn't wait any longer. The pressure was building inside his head, practically screaming at him to bombard her with questions. Luckily he was intelligent enough not to act upon these bursts of emotions.

He straightened his back against the chairs's soft support and felt Hermione tense underneath him. Knowing what was coming, she quietly retreated to the opposite side of the squashy couch and wrapped her slender hands around her knees protectively, a small apprehensive look on her face.

Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, wondering with a panic what on earth he was going to say. This situation had never come up before. He was never awkward around Hermione; this was unfamiliar terrain to him. It was terrifying. The best he could come up with was a pathetically tentative; '…you wanna tell me what happened?'

Hermione squeezed her legs and shuffled her feet uncomfortably, but answered his question after a considerably long pause.

'He wanted to get married' she said quietly, determinately not looking at him.

Harry started at her for a moment, not quite believing what she had said. He seemed to stop in suspended animation for a few seconds and he could have sworn it was the closest he had ever come to his world coming to an end. Recollecting his thoughts, he quickly recovered from his internal distraught to turn his attention back to her petrified face. When she appeared to be too preoccupied with picking a thread from the couch he decided he had to be the first one to speak, and eventually a voice protruded from his mouth in a strangled sort of attempt at normal speech.

'He wanted…you…get married?'

Hermione's eyes came to a sudden realization and she lifted her palms hastily. 'Oh, he didn't _propose!_' she said, looking horrified. 'No, good lord no, nothing like that.'

Harry's shoulders lowered slowly, comprehending her words with an enormous internal sigh of relief.

_Relief._

He could have gotten up and spun Hermione around the couch in a triumphant war dance to release the mountain of relief that had washed over him. Letting go of the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, Harry was quick to hide the sudden jubilation at the thought that all hope wasn't yet lost. He waited with baited breath for her to continue, anxious for words to form in her mouth that would tell him she was through crying over Ronald Weasley.

'We were just…talking' she began, inching her feet closer to the rest of her body. 'It was just normal chatter, the first time we'd been alone together in a while, really.' Hermione paused to recollect her thoughts, a regretful look in her pained eyes. 'It was going so well…'

Harry listening to her story with a pitying air, the discomfort clearly showing as she wrung her hands together.

'But then, God I don't know, he mentioned something about '_when we're married'_ and…and...' She was now staring fixatedly at her mug unseeingly, in raptures at her retelling, as if she had thought it over million of times in her head.

'I'd never pictured us _married_ before. It sounded so…ridiculous. I know it seems like I'm over thinking it but when it comes down to it what girl doesn't picture a wedding or children or _something_ with their boyfriend at some point? I've never done that Harry; I've never looked ahead that far.'

Harry remained determinately silent, sure that if he made a comment he would live to regret it. He had quite a number of opinions about the subject, but there was a time and a place for everything. Hermione didn't seem to mind, she ploughed on with her story without encouragement.

'Then, of course, he got all defensive and you can imagine what happened after that.'

She brandished her hands uselessly as if the added effect would emphasize her point, but he could see the glaze of water welling up slowly within her eyes, the emotion of her tale as a painful reminder.

'He wants to spend the rest of his life with me, Harry. That's what he wants.'

'But do you?' Harry asked hastily instantly regretting the question that came out of his mouth far too quickly for a casual enquiry.

Hermione didn't answer; she just let the tears roll down her cheeks as if they were nothing but a usual occurrence, her hands in her lap. She didn't even seem bothered that Harry was watching, a fact that she usually despised above all things. Her pride wasn't getting in the way this time.

He looked at her shaking figure and for that moment he was sure that if Hermione looked up and saw the crinkles of sadness around his emerald eyes she would see right though him, and realize everything he had been trying to keep from her. Harry had always been an open book to her, she could recite what was on his mind in a split second after looking into his face, but the years of Ron had clouded the very emotions Harry didn't want her to see. He was grateful for that much. It bought him some time.

'You love him,' Harry said gently, wishing that he could steal her pain away and have her rid of such horrible memories, ones she didn't deserve.

'I thought I did.' She said quietly, as if confessing a long feared opinion. They held each other's gaze but Harry won without effort and he watched helplessly as Hermione crumbled before his eyes.

As she returned to his side of the couch in comfort, Harry watched as the sky lit up once again, setting the heavens on fire. The growling weather above him temporarily drowned out the sound of her sobs but he could still feel her quick, uneven intakes of breath underneath his chin. He let the tears flow, let her ruin his shirt with her stains of water, sure that he had never wanted to protect her from the world more than in that instant. No matter how tightly he wrapped himself around her, they both knew that neither would sleep tonight.

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**Hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you did, I love to hear feedback!**


	4. The Complications of Love

**A/N – Okaaay yes yes I said a week and a half upload time. Well I lied. Happy? School is rude, let us leave it at that. **

**On another note, I definitely hope to have another chapter up within a week, but after that I don't know how scarce they'll be until exams are over. Life is hard sometimes --**

**P.S – On the note of reference to Voldemort here, as it is not pivotal to the storyline I don't mention much about it, but let us just assume that all that happened in book 7 happened when they were in year 6 at school, and therefore had a free year at Hogwarts in year 7, kay? Kay. **

**At least I have something to show for this holiday week's efforts, ENJOY MY PRETTIES**

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Rainy Days  
Chapter 4 - The Complications of Love  
By xxbittersweet

An angered Granger certainly was a sight to behold.

Harry noted this silently to himself as the coffee grew warm in his hands. It was useful, too, that his attention was otherwise occupied by the daily newspaper propped up against the salt shakers, because try as he might, there was no avoiding the Hermione glare.

He would take a glance with a Basalisk any day.

In any case, when an abrupt snap of the usually merry café door carried towards him, Harry kept his head down firmly on his newspaper. Maybe calling in some Aurors wouldn't have been such a bad idea.

'_Harry James Potter!_'

She practically hissed in his directed as she slid into the booth, not even bothering to remove her scarf. Her eyes flashed dangerously under suspiciously squinted lids as he sneaked a peek at her face.

Though Harry's eyes did not leave the black and white writing of his paper he could practically feel the burn of Hermione's presence in front of him and was too much of a coward to face her just yet.

The minutes ticked by, and not a thing happened.

Slowly, he congregated enough courage to look up into Hermione's accusing face.

To his great surprise, she was not looking at him. He observed her closely as she traced the fingers of her opposite hand, her eyelids down and therefore unreadable. He liked to believe that her anger had diminished, but he wasn't naive enough to think that he was out of the woods yet.

Another minute passed, still Hermione remained silent.

Harry cleared his throat tentatively and she glanced up at him with a slightly dazed expression, indicating that she had been deep in thought. Upon instantly realizing this it vanished as quickly as it had appeared to be replaced with a scowl.

It was to Harry's immense relief that her expression reflected that of colossal disapproval as opposed to direct rage. She made him feel like a disobedient child.

With a falsely cheerful voice, Harry broke the silence.

'Good Morning, sleep well?'

If it were possible, her scowl deepened.

In one swift movement, Hermione swung her bag onto the table. The shakers rattled and the menu tipped over at the loud thump but she bustled determinedly through the bag's contents until she had retrieved a crumpled piece of parchment. Unfolding and smoothing it out on the tabletop briefly, she read it out loud in a curt and irritated voice.

'_Dear Miss Granger,'_

_At your request we have organised your uncollected leave to be activated until five weeks from this date. _

_Hoping your personal business is resolved, _

_Emmett Keirnan  
Head of the department of International Magical Cooperation  
Ministry of Magic'_

There was a pause in which Hermione closed her eyes momentarily, as if attempting to recollect her composure. She then threw the scrunched ball of paper viciously at Harry's head.

Harry blinked, then grinned in spite of himself.

'Don't you smirk at me, Potter,' Hermione snapped, folding her arms across her chest like a sulking teenager, 'You _lied_ to my _boss_.'

Harry rolled his eyes and went back to his coffee. '_Lied_ is a strong world, I merely suggested on your behalf.'

Hermione's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. '_On my behalf?_ It's fraud!'

'Calm down, for Christs sake,' Harry soothed, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. 'You work too hard and need a break. It's exhausting just watching you.'

Hermione straightened up in her seat, her hair bristling defiantly. 'Who are you to tell me I need a break? I feel I work in a perfectly acceptable manner and in any case, it's none of your business.'

'Suit yourself,' sighed Harry nonchalantly, flipping his newspaper. 'But either way, you have five weeks. It'll give you time to relax for once, sort things out.'

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed with irritated confusion. 'Sort things o-Harry Potter you had better not be thinking I'm a distraught female in emotional mayhem from all this business with Ron, you of all people I thought would understand that as an independent member of the society I am entirely capable of-

'Hot chocolate?'

The waitress had buzzed over to their table, humming to her own tune and smiling politely, pen and paper poised. She appeared to be apparently oblivious to Hermione's current state of frustration and Hermione huffed at the interruption, stopping mid-sentence, glaring at Harry.

Harry merely smiled at the waitress and ordered for his companion. When she had left their table, tapping her feet merrily as she went, he gave a heavy sigh.

'Hermione, I just think you need a little bit of time to get your head around things. You haven't come up for air since we got out of Hogwarts and I really don't want my best friend having a mental breakdown anytime soon. Please, take some time off?'

She looked at him for an instant, then took the mug of steaming chocolate from the waitress, taking a long first swallow. Once she had replaced the cup on the table, she kicked off her shoes, drew her legs up underneath her and grudgingly mumbled a defeated groan.

'Maybe a few weeks won't kill me.'

Harry extracted a relieved breath and grinned ardently at her, which after a long moment, she sheepishly returned.

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It was surprisingly easy to entertain Hermione for the rest of the day. Harry secretly thanked her muggle born status, briefly wondering if she'd ever done this type of thing with Ron, who had no patience for the effort it took to enjoy muggle entertainment. They roamed the centre streets of London, flitting in and out of the hubbub of the city's happenings as if it was being experienced for the first time. They explored the markets, buying useless trinkets that they would never use. In the afternoon Harry treated Hermione to an ice cream on the way through the park and for a while there was a lax in conversation save for the occasion exclamation about the weather. Indeed it was the perfect day, and Hermione displayed her appreciation by tying her jumper around her waist, lapping up the unusual sun.

He could tell she needed this.

Every so often he would catch her glancing across the street as if expecting to find someone there. Her eyes would flit back and forth near a spot for a moment and then the moment vanished, and Harry would wonder if it had really happened. If they shared a laugh there were a few occasions in which she would falter slightly mid-smile, like a memory had flashed across her mind.

It hurt Harry to know she still cared for Ron. Though, what had he expected? It had barely been 24 hours and he was already jumping to conclusions. Hell, were they even officially over? It wasn't wise to think too much of it just yet, and he internally warned himself of the dangers.

Hermione lived by routine. It was as if she had her own personal checklist going off in her head. She did things the way she wanted, when she wanted, without question. She knew how she liked it to be done and settled for the same, safe road. Every day she would have a hot chocolate with Harry, not once had she ever ordered anything else. Ron was a part of her routine. That was the way it had been done for years, even while they were at Hogwarts, she was used to it and it was safe. It then made sense therefore to say that Hermione wasn't used to change. She'd rarely had the need to alter her routine at all, nothing new ever popped up because she never failed at the previous thing. It was harder than even Harry could fathom for her to let the routine of Ron go. Deep, deep down, Hermione knew that she and Ron just weren't working. There was something different these days, but Hermione's head had always overpowered her heart, and there was no way it was going to admit defeat that easily. The only part she loved about Ron now was the _idea_ of him, the _routine_ of him. Eventually, or so Harry hoped, she would come to notice that it was a lost cause. For someone so intelligent, she really couldn't see.

He watched as she scooped the dripping ice cream from its journey down her cone and popped it messily into her mouth with a finger. At the image of her own ridiculousness she giggled, her teeth flashing him a young smile that reminded him of their days at Hogwarts. He missed those times so much, where they thought of nothing but exams and friendship. Harry's thoughts turned to their seventh year, the first time they had all been without Voldemort's reign. How nice it felt not to have that constant weight on their shoulders, to finally feel free. He would give anything to go back to that time again, where he had no worries of the complications of love.

She was so special to him.

It was impossible to spend this time with her, under the circumstance and not get carried away. The incredible guilt was overwhelming but Harry couldn't help feel elated at the personal time they could now spend together. Of course they'd done things collectively before but this was different, there was a cause, and Harry knew the only way he could help Hermione was to take her mind off anything to do with Ron.

Did she not realise how lovely she was?

Every time she smiled at Harry, he felt his stomach lurch, like he'd been temporarily stunned. When her shoulder would brush his her shampoo would waft over him, make him long to bury his head it it's glory, thinking that nothing else could ever smell so wonderful.

He loved the way she would twist the woven band on her wrist when she was bored or fall asleep with a slightly troubled look on her face for no particular reason. And yet, she had absolutely no idea how beautiful she was.

The day passed quickly, though they headed back to Harry's place as the sun made its descent and ordered Chinese from the lack of anyone wanting to cook. Harry was feeling relatively light and carefree and Hermione seemed to share the mood as they sat sprawled on the lounge room floor, eating from the packaged containers that had arrived moments before. Hermione sat watching trashy sitcoms, fried rice only sometimes making it all the way to her mouth, while Harry sat watching her, imprinting every moment into his memory. For a while there was peace between them and all that was needed was the noise of the television. It felt natural again.

But when night came, and the sun that once peeked through Harry's curtains ceased to glow, the atmosphere changed. With the darkness came rain and with the rain came memories, still fresh from the closeness of the previous night.

He could see it in her eyes.

Hermione became less interested in her sitcom reruns and more preoccupied with the water on the rooftops above their heads. Harry watched as she shrunk back into the shadows of the lounge at her back, seemingly determined to keep her eyes on the screen in front of her. That same tense and frightened look came over her, the one that he had rarely seen on her face before. It still seemed out of place. His eyes travelled to where her long fingers wrapped around her knees, noticing something clutched there. Before he recognised what the little box was, she spoke, more to the room than to Harry himself.

'Why hasn't he called?'

Harry looked at her, not quite sure what to say. The mobile phone lay still and motionless in her hands.

'He _always_ calls.'

He slid over to her side of the floor and took the phone from her grasp. 'But _you_ always returned to your apartment.'

There was a pause and Harry could tell she was considering this, so he spoke again.

'It's different this time Hermione, you know it is.'

'I'm just so confused.' She moaned quietly. 'I didn't think…I mean, how am I supposed to-Harry I…'

She buried her head into his shoulder hopelessly and clutched at his shirt, tugging on it as if it would help solve her problems. His overbearing sense of protection came creeping into his thoughts again and he wished there was something more he could do. Why did she not see that she could do so much better? She deserved the world, and she wasn't getting it. It was then that a sudden anger filled him and it snapped.

'Hermione, is it going to be over or not?'

She looked up at him, her eyes slightly questioning at his abrupt outburst. 'I…well-

Harry's expression grew darker and he made a short noise of frustration. 'It's a yes or no question, 'Mione. I'm sorry, but this is only hurting you and as your best friend I'm asking you to stop. Give it up, you can't _fix_ this.'

Hermione stared at him through her glassy eyes and he could feel her fingers against his chest through the material of his shirt.

He could have kicked himself for that little charade.

The way she was looking at him, it was so…so curious. The familiar fear of being caught out came creeping back but he pushed it away, back into the corner of his head and out of sight. He didn't need hesitation at a time like this. A fleeting, reckless thought flashed across his mind and for a second he contemplated just telling her, to give her a reason to trust his judgement, to end the unbelievable ache he felt inside. With a hitched breath he searched her eyes for the recognition but he found…nothing. They were blank. Emotionless.

By God he was good.

He must have the best freaking poker face in the entire world.

Harry had little time to bask in his own glory because his mind was moving to other things. Like the way her curls wound their way around her neck and down her shoulders, springing about ever time she turned her head. They teased him, as if daring him to reach out and run a hand through them.

And then there were those freckles. Those golden speckles scattered across her cheekbones like powdered glitter. He longed to wake up to them each morning, count them, know their every location. So often he had dreamt of _knowing_ her top to bottom. Every mark, every inch, his to discover. A land uncharted.

He was brought back from his reverie to find the same dark, chocolate eyes still staring at him but the connection was lost. They lacked their vigour and he could tell she was also deep in thought. A few seconds passed in which she sat lifelessly in his arms until she gave a sudden jerk of the head to flick back into his eyes, a scared but determined look on her face.

They looked at each other, illuminated only by the screen in front of them. The worthless, meaningless screen. Hermione opened her mouth to speak with a kind of wonder and finality, as if coming to a secret revelation.

'Okay.'

Harry paused, then gave a questioning look, which she quickly answered.

'It's over.'

Blinking once, it finally clunked into place what she was talking about and Harry gave a slow but encouraging nod before she continued.

'You're right, Harry, and I…I trust you.'

She gave a hesitant exhale of breath and stared down at her hands.

Harry didn't quite know how to react, so he said 'You sure?'

Hermione took a long moment to gather herself, swung her arms around him in comfort and uttered the words breathlessly into his ear.

'_Definitely_.'

Harry clutched her around the waist roughly and hugged her as tightly as she did him, not quite knowing what to think or what to feel. All he knew was the surge of relief and fierce protection he felt for her at that moment. Hermione, _his_ Hermione.

As they sat there, Harry's thoughts welled up and spilled over and he experienced with a sharp realization a feeling he hadn't felt in a very long time. It leaked through him, reluctant and wary but defiant in its travels through his body. Though he knew all too well the dangers this emotion could cause, he couldn't help it. He guiltily welcomed it as an old acquaintance though kept it at arms length, just in case.

For the first time in years, Harry Potter felt hopeful.

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**Thank you for reading, and please review!**


	5. Simplicities

**A/N - …hokai, so this took 58957484 bagillion years to get up and running. Sorrryyy ^^''''' **

**Good news is that i'mma off for 2 FREAKING MONTHS. ~confetti~**

**Hopefully the next chapter ( which is almost half written) will be up soon. **

**Please enjoy! **

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Well into the week succeeding the 'incident', it seemed that they had both indirectly decided that Hermione was to stay with Harry, and it wasn't long before he had noticed remnants of her scattered about the house. There was no time limit on her stay, nor was there the need for one, because Harry knew that though Hermione would never admit it, she needed some stability and companionship at the moment. Harry, of course, was only too happy to oblige, so the two remained a content pair for the remainder of the week.

A few days into Hermione's break, Harry returned from Auror training to a sparkling and immaculate household from top to bottom. It seemed that his temporary housemate was determined to keep busy despite her vocational status and had plunged into the nearest project she could find. Though he couldn't for the life of him see how washing windows or vacuuming floors could be considered 'enjoying a holiday' he _did _like Hermione flitting around him in tattered shorts and an old tee shirt, wand in one hand, washcloth in the other.

Though he could feel his thoughts running away with him, he couldn't shake the joy he felt every time he came home to find Hermione waiting for him, lonely from being the sole inhibitor of the house all day and therefore exuberant in her welcome. Harry relished the instants in which he would stride through the door and she would bound off the couch towards him like she hadn't seen him in years. He would bring flowers home on occasions just to see her eyes light up and her exclamations on how perfectly they would go in the dining room or on the table by the stairs. Harry hadn't been this happy in months, and judging by her generally cheerful disposition, neither had Hermione. They hadn't talked of Ron at all; neither had Ron appeared to checked up on his girlfriend, so Harry took Hermione's lead and didn't bring it up, not wanting to spoil their wonderful time together. He wouldn't have given up these moments with Hermione for anything in the world. He felt half selfish, but Harry saw it as a window of opportunity to make a memory, this very well might be the last chance he had.

On Saturday morning Harry awoke to the smell of something truly delicious, and he stumbled out of be in a considerably more cheerful mood that he would have normally done. Taking a brief look at the alarm clock beside his bed which read a time that would have been considered completely indecent for any other person, he flung the nearest shirt over his shoulder and descended the stairs to find the source of his tingling tastebuds.

He tripped on the little incline step into the kitchen and heard a small tinkle of laughter which he instantly knew to whom it belonged. Looking beyond the counter he spotted the short, pyjama clad form of Hermione, smiling over her shoulder at him as she darted about the appliances.

'Hermione?' he said groggily, tugging his shirt over his head and sliding onto a stool.

'Wha…' he yawned hugely, stretching his arms out wide across the kitchen. 'What on earth are you doing up this early?'

'Isn't it obvious?' she chortled, as she poured what looked like fresh orange juice into a glass in front of him with one hand, and flicked her wand at the pots and pans in the sink with the other; 'I'm making breakfast.'

Harry stared at the utensils washing themselves for a few seconds before exclaiming; 'But _why?_ Its Saturday morning for Pete's sake, you should be asleep right now! And don't tell me that you're-

Harry momentarily forgot what he was about to say and gave a great appreciative groan, abandoning his sentence to stare longingly at the plate Hermione had just placed before him. She stood smirking, her hands on her hips in victory as Harry dove into the mountain of bacon, pancakes and other such delicacies that he had ridiculed moments before.

As the approving silence permeated the room, Hermione leant on the counter with her hands under her chin, watching Harry eat his fill, smiling to herself.

'I do feel bad about you having training on a _Saturday_.' She said sympathetically, scooping some more bacon onto his plate; 'Besides, you haven't had a decent meal in weeks, judging by the state of your fridge.'

Harry paused, sausage halfway to him mouth and gave Hermione a sheepish look to which she instantly rolled her eyes at. It was at this moment that Harry fully supported Hermione's obsessive compulsion to have something to do with her hands.

'If you keep this up Hermione, I'm never going to be able to let you leave!' chuckled Harry, shoving the last piece of food into his mouth and dropping his fork so it clattered noisily. He stared triumphantly at his plate for a second before scraping the stool backwards and getting up.

'That appetite could rival Ron's!' Hermione laughed, taking his plate away from the table and towards the sink.

There was a sharp silence, in which Harry stopped to look back at Hermione instantly and she too, froze mid turn, her expression unreadable. Harry stood very still, watching her face for any recognised emotion but she surprisingly took a few slow, deliberate strides towards the sink and continued with her job as if nothing had taken place. Gradually turning away from Hermione, Harry ascended the stairs and walked out of sight, not noticing the tense exhale of breath from his companion as soon as he was out of hearing distance.

Ten minutes later, the thud of Harry's shoes could be heard and he emerged, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket as he went. Hermione appeared behind him having apparently tired of kitchen duties. She additionally remained ignorant to Harry's sudden stiffness as she fixed his collar, and feeling as if he had choked on his own breath Harry cleared his throat and tried to ignore her perfume or her breath on his neck.

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When Harry returned late that afternoon, ruffling through his mail and depositing his wallet on the counter, he didn't have to look far to find Hermione. He noticed her legs poking out from the side of an armchair by the fire, her toes dangling neatly off the edge. Harry gave a small smile and walked towards her, leaning on the door frame to look down at the volume clutched in her hands. She looked up as she heard his footsteps and gave a wide smile, her eyes lighting up under the firelight. The sight of her warmed Harry's heart, as battered and bruised as he was.

'Hey,' she smiled, playing with a page corner under her fingers.

'Having fun?' Harry commented teasingly, secretly enjoying the guilty blush Hermione gave, clutching her book defiantly to her chest.

'I have good news,' Harry continued, watching as she perked up with interest and kneeled up to rest her head on her arms on the back of the chair.

'Break from training starts tomorrow, I get a months holiday!' He grinned, resting his palms ether side of her, watching her gasp in delight and practically leap at him, so he felt temporarily winded and heard the book thump onto his floor. He laughed at her enthusiasm as she exclaimed phrases of glee. Subconsciously his heart jolted at the idea that she was excited to have _him_ all to herself, and not Ron.

'I think I underestimated your loneliness, here by yourself all day' Harry mocked, receiving a nudge in the ribs and a glowing smile. After a pause in which Harry couldn't help but notice how close she was now standing to him, seemingly oblivious to their proximity, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and broke the silence.

'So!' she said, picking up the heavy book from its fall and placing it back on the chair, 'I have the _perfect _way to kick start your vacation from ultimate world protection.'

'Oh?' Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and watching her small figure rush out of sight and down the hall. He laughed inwardly and collapsed on the couch to await her return, though didn't have to linger long. Before he had even lowered himself into a chair completely he heard the shuffling of her feet on the carpet and got up instantly to catch the oversized box she was tripping with.

'Easy now,' he said, taking the box from her struggling hands and hearing her huff in defiance, knowing that she wouldn't have wanted any help.

'You could have just used a levitating charm' he sniggered; dropping the box on the floor and watching her readjust her clothing. Hermione gave him a withering look but otherwise ignored his comment.

'What have you got _in_ here?' he inquired, lifting the lid with a tentative finger.

Hermione slapped his hand away and reached into its depths to pull out several long and tattered boxes, their faded colour additionally blemished by a thick layer of dust. She hurriedly took the top one and placed it on the coffee table, opening the lid.

Harry watched the filth fly everywhere and waved it away jokingly, enjoying her childish excitement. Peering curiously into the contents he recognised it and gave a low expression of awe.

'Aww, no!' He exclaimed, pulling the next box out of its confines and opening it, laughing. The familiar names of the old board games jumped out at him as he felt their worn covers admiringly.

'Where did you find all these?' he enquired, poking his head about the games, gazing at their rules. He couldn't be sure he even remembered how to play. They brought back old memories, ones of sneaking a game or two while the Dudleys were out or passing a toy store and wondering how pointless it would all seem to a wizard.

Hermione smiled and wrapped her arms around her knees. 'They were having a garage sale a couple of doors down.'

Harry whistled in appreciation and Hermione, seemingly not wanting to waste any time began packing things neatly back into their box.

'C'mon,' she said, pulling a single one from the pack; 'You might beat me at wizard's chess, but I play a mean monopoly.'

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'Not a five, not a five!' Harry chanted, the dice clattered in his clenched fist. They fell noisily onto the board, spinning on their edges before…

'Ha!' Hermione shrieked, pointing at the dice like a madman as Harry groaned and hung his head in defeat. He looked up to her smug face and glared.

'Pay up Potter, _if you can_.'

Grumbling under his breath, Harry shoved what remained of his bills into her expectant hand and she placed them on top of her orderly row, co-ordinated by worth and colour. She raised an eyebrow at him and motioned towards his last pathetic little card, alone and in danger beside him. Harry scoffed indignantly.

'Oh no,' he said, pressing the card to his chest; 'This is my last property; I'll tap dance for the Malfoys before you get your hands on this.'

Hermione's eyes narrowed and Harry was instantly wary of her devilish grin. Her fingers twiddled one of the dice precariously and she took a sip of her wine before flashing her teeth at him and speaking in a low, over dramatised voice.

'I'll play you for it.' She said, indicating the die in her hand, 'Winner takes all.'

Harry sized her up for a moment, still sceptical. If he hadn't been so hyped up by the heat of the game, he would have been slightly alarmed at Hermione's extreme competitiveness. If there was one thing the years with her had taught him, it was that Hermione's ambition reached much further than school grades. Though the act was trivial, the fire in her eyes and the determined way in which she moved about the board made him grin to himself. She was so special. So _Hermione._

It may have been the alcohol, but Harry brazenly raised his chin and straightened up to face her wicked stature.

'You're on, Granger.'

Hermione's grin widened and they both leaned into the board in anticipation.

'Odd numbers, I win. Even numbers, you win.'

Harry nodded and watched as she rattled the die and threw it high in the air. Their heads followed it as it came down to land but as it did, it spun off the board and rolled away. The pair leaped up from their position on the floor and ran after it, bounding over furniture to get to it first. Hermione was nimble but Harry was fast and passers by might have thought they were running for their lives. Just as they reached for it, the force of their stampeding feet had flung it in the other direction, back towards the game. There was a short struggle, a push and a shove before they both catapulted themselves on the now slowly revolving die at the same time. As they landed directly on their playing field like two people in a ridiculous cartoon, pieces went flying everywhere with a loud clink of metal and plastic.

There was a small silence, in which paper money fluttered down over the heap that was Harry and Hermione, before an eruption of laughter reverberated off the walls. The situation was so completely silly, and both felt so childish that they couldn't help but make fun of themselves.

The minutes ticked by, the euphoria died down, and Harry rolled over to face the form of Hermione, propped up on her elbows, playing with a game piece in her long fingers. She plainly felt his eyes upon her and immediately met his gaze, a small reminiscent smile in place.

'It'll be nice to have you around more the next few weeks.' She said, a warmth spreading to her chocolate eyes that Harry couldn't explain. It made him feel a bit light headed, if he was honest.

It was Harry's turn to smile, as he said; 'Believe me, I'd much rather be hanging out with you, that's for sure.'

Hermione looked down at the piece of plastic in her hands again, as if she was trying to find the right words to say. It was out of the ordinary enough that she was having trouble expressing herself, a feat that was rarely reached. She opened her mouth to speak but paused before words came out.

'Harry, I just want to say that I really appreciate everything you've done for me. And not just this week, I mean _everything_.'

She had his full attention now; he watched her with alert senses and hung on every word she said.

'You always seem to know what to do,' she gave a small smirk, flicking the object back onto its board; 'Even when I don't.'

'What if it's a fluke?' Harry asked quietly. 'What if I'm making it up as I go along?'

Hermione's expression became softer, she was looking directly at him now and they were almost nose to nose. His breathing hitched a little bit, and Harry was sure that if he had tried to speak, no words would have come out.

'Well, it's worked for you so far, hasn't it?' she asked, her voice becoming gentler too, and her last two words were only hushed whispers.

'Thank you.'

Harry stared straight into her face, searching. Her expression, he couldn't read it. It was impenetrable. There was a need there, a gratitude that he couldn't quite understand. He had known his presence was required but until then he hadn't known how much. It was like her appearance at his front door all over again, the helplessness. He felt like he was only just beginning to realise how much she kept hidden, however much he thought he knew her.

Then, it happened.

He let his guard down.

He hadn't meant to, it wasn't something he planned, but with her eyes upon him he felt a surge of something that urged him forward, to go places he wouldn't ordinarily dare to go. Harry's voice was low and thick, and he spoke so close that she would have felt the warmth radiating from his body.

'I'd do anything, if it was for _you_.'

For the first time in so long, Harry held her gaze. He was raw, no barriers, no walls. He looked at her, really _looked,_ and she stared back. He felt powerful, courageous, like he was daring himself to go just that extra mile. For that split second in time he forgot all the consequences and had no fears, it almost scared him.

It was to great surprise, that it was _Hermione_ who broke the gaze, not Harry. She cleared her throat and turned away from him, hastily picking up after the mess they had created. She appeared flustered, though there was no direct reason as to why. Harry remained where he was, his head spinning and his nose still filled with her scent, hearing only the bustling of Hermione clearing space. He listened as she stood up and dropped the unorderly board game into its box and pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

'Want to grab something to eat?'

Harry looked up, and saw Hermione's polite face of enquiry, her fingers resting in the pockets of her jeans. Her eyes were bright and simple, explaining only a feeling of carelessness.

The moment was gone.

He sighed and got up from the floor, wondering if it has all been a trick of the light. With a deep breath, he pushed it to the back of his mind and nodded.

'Okay.'

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**Yaaaaay! There was a MOMENT, people! Wheee! Next chapter to come hopefully a lot sooner than this did, and guess what, more Luna! Heart luna xD aaand RON! Oooh, confrontation. **

**If you liked, PLEASE review, its really important to me to know that people are still enjoying this. **

**Thanks! xx**


	6. Conflicted

**A/N – Wooowww, sorry guys. I know the time between updates has been long and ridiculous, but I really have tried to get this done. This chapter was particularly hard to complete, it took me a lot of copies and pre-planning to finally get it right. I think I've finally got as close to what I wanted as possible, so I hope you enjoy this.**

**Keep in mind that I am back at school now, and naturally I'll keep writing in every spare moment, but please forgive me if updates are scarce. **

**Please enjoy! ^^**

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In an ordinary household, Sunday afternoon was a time of peace and quiet. Perhaps one might fancy breakfast in bed, catching up on some reading or taking the dog for a walk. It was a time in which the busy and flustered could retire from the stresses that are so often placed on us, to naughtily rest shoes on coffee tables or ignore unrelenting telephones.

Sunday at Harry Potter's house was never ordinary. Additionally, it did not help his case that at the precise moment he closed his weary eyes with his limbs sprawled out on his couch, a large crackle emitted from behind him. His fireplace spat and sizzled, and though his initial instinct was to ignore, it was considerably difficult to tune out the persistent coo-ees of Luna. He could picture her brandishing hands and sparkling eyes without even having to turn around. Knowing that her peering eyes could plainly see the back of his head, he sighed longingly at the nap that could have been and got up to look into her cheerful face, which was currently blowing a fringe out of her eyes.

'Morning, Harry.' She smiled, shifting her weight to sit more comfortably. Harry dreaded her preparation for a long winded Hermione discussion. She must have heard or suspected something, or she wouldn't have called. His eyes narrowed.

'Hi Luna,' he said warily, leaning on the back of the couch, his arms loosely folded. 'What's the matter?'

'Can't I innocently drop in for a chat once in a while?' she asked politely in her floaty, wistful voice, shrugging her shoulders.

Harry gave a curt, sarcastic laugh at her floating head, to which Luna chose to conveniently ignore. She attempted to stretch her head, peering around the room as much as she could given her current position, then asked lightly; 'Where's Hermione?'

Harry gave a slight frown before replying; 'She's gone to the fruit market…._why_?'

Luna gave a short exclamation of glee, her fringe now bobbing back into its original place over her eyes. 'Aha! I _knew_ it!'

Once again ignoring Harry's questioning looks she continued; 'Well, Ron was blabbering away about a fight they'd had and that she answering her floos so naturally I assumed that she would have automatically turn to-

She stopped abruptly and mid-sentence, noticing Harry's expression.

'…Am I missing something?' she enquired, surprised. 'You look like you've been cornered by a pack of wild calgornias.'

Harry didn't even bother to ask, and with her curious gaze upon him he had no other choice but to admit what was on his mind. It was clear that she would have noticed the strain in his face, the effort to smile. His head was pounding as if it was being beaten from the inside with all the thoughts that were cascading through it. As an added factor, Hermione had left, leaving him alone in the house to brood on the current situation in silence.

'She said it was over.'

It took a few moments for her to process his words, then Luna's eyes became wide with interest, his voice had silenced her immediately and her body language urged him to continue.

'Over, as in, _over_ over?' she said incredulously, undeniably shocked.

Harry nodded and she stared wordlessly, obviously thinking hard.

'How did all this happen?' she enquired, chewing a fingernail and eyeing Harry closely.

He shrugged and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. 'I don't really know.' He answered truthfully. 'She just turned up the other night and…'

Harry didn't finish his sentence and Luna's stare drilled into him, suspicion etched on her face, but hidden by sudden concern.

'Harry, are you okay?'

He ran an agitated hand through his hair and scrunched his eyes for a moment of peace, trying to recompose himself. There were so many things he wanted to say, needed to explain, but he didn't know where to start. Would Luna even understand? He wasn't sure if even _he_ understood what he was feeling.

It was just so _hard_.

'Harry?' Luna asked again, reaching a hand gingerly towards him. 'Do you want me to come over there?'

'No, no don't bother.' Harry replied hastily, kicking the carpet with his shoe. 'I'm fine. _Really._' He added, looking at her slightly disbelieving expression.

Harry walked around the length of the couch and collapsed into it, his back now facing Luna again. 'Now isn't really the best time, Luna.'

There was a small 'whoosh' and Harry sighed and leaned down to place his head in his hands, knowing she had disappeared. He listened to the stillness, the clock in the kitchen ticking away as if nothing had changed, the wind batting at the windows.

It did no difference; the peace of mind never came.

It was then that he felt a presence and he reluctantly separated his hands to find Luna sitting cross legged on the rug underneath him, peering into his face like a mother inspecting a child. Her flamboyant skirt billowed out around her and her hands were clasped neatly in her lap.

'Just try.' She said gently, and he felt a wash of tension and relief at the same time. He was afraid he wouldn't get his meaning across, afraid of having his hopes trodden on but, and Luna knew this, he wanted to get it out. He had to say _something._

'I…I don't know what to do.' He said at last, speaking to his knees. He couldn't bear to look her in the eye; it was hard enough as it was. 'I'm so confused, Luna. It's all happening so fast, it's all changed, nothing's the same anymore.'

'You need to remember to keep a clear head, Harry.' Luna reminded him, her voice still gentle and soft.

Harry gave a small moan of helplessness. 'You didn't _see_ her, when she turned up. She was a mess; I've never seen her like that before. It…plays over and over in my head. Some night I can't even sleep. The rain, the _look on her face, _I don't think I'll ever forget it.'

'What has she told you about it? Her and Ron, I mean.' Luna asked, a slight difference in her tone, and Harry knew what she was thinking. There wasn't a more caring person than Luna when she really knew someone, except for maybe Hermione, but this didn't just affect him anymore. He had to keep reminding himself that she was involved too; she was depending on this, just like him.

They were quite a sight.

'Not much.' He confessed honestly. 'She wasn't in much of a state for conversation.'

There was a pause, and he could tell Luna was trying as hard as she could to be patient. One day he would repay her for this, he vowed it right then and there.

'But,' He mulled over the words in his head before he spoke them, trying to make it sound right. 'I think its all coming to an end.'

The inevitable outcome had been badgering him since Hermione first came to him. He knew this fight had been different. It had brought on a long forgotten fear in Hermione; it had spooked her, a feat that was never accomplished. Time had escaped her, she had found herself in a situation she couldn't remember getting in, it had come on without her even realising it and now she was trying to dig herself out.

'I don't think either of them can take it anymore.'

Luna exhaled and Harry took the opportunity to lift his head and look at her frame. Her eyelashes were downcast, staring at her tightly clasped hands but he knew she was listening.

'And if they're done, what happens to _us_?' He asked softly, watching Luna's head jerk upwards. 'Can we…do anything at all?'

Luna didn't answer.

Harry hadn't expected her to.

When he spoke again, it was with a more determined edge. 'I can't wait much longer. I…I need her. I need her like oxygen; I've been living without it for so long. Is that wrong?'

Luna slowly shook her head, her face strained.

'I could do something you know, if I wanted. I…think she could love me, if I taught her how.'

Luna's mouth opened in a silent sentence, as if she too was thinking about the words that wanted to come out of her mouth. Her frame looked rigid and stiff, it was a Luna that Harry rarely saw.

'Harry, you need to be careful. Don't...I mean, just think it all the way through. You only get one chance, and you really need to wait until the _opportune moment_. Make it count.'

Harry extended a hand and interlaced his fingers with hers, concentrating on the lines of her knuckles. It was a few moments before he saw a small, wet tear drop into her lap, though she made no sound.

'Good luck Harry. Goodness knows, it's about time you deserved a little happiness.'

Harry squeezed her hand, and wondered what in the world he did to deserve her. One way or another, he would make it work.

He had to, because this wasn't just for himself.

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It was late afternoon when Harry could be seen apparating into the stairwell of Hermione's apartment block and climbing the remainder of the stairs to reach her floor. He hummed to himself and strummed his fingers on the banister as he went, in a perfectly cheerful mood.

He and Hermione had parted after their coffee break, and Harry was now on his way to pick up a few things from her place, she needed to collect something in Diagon alley. They would meet back at his house, for Harry had challenged her to a game of Cluedo. With his thoughts filled with images of her smiles, he turned the corner and looked up at her door to find…Ron.

Harry halted instantly, watching his best friend knock repeatedly on Hermione's front door while leaning on one leg, frustrated. He called out her name once or twice, asking if she was home, then slouched and sighed after getting no reply.

It was then that he noticed Harry, who looked as if he would like nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear from sight. Ron, as oblivious as always noticed nothing out of the ordinary in Harry's behaviour and gave him a friendly grin.

'Hiya Harry,' He said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as Harry walked slowly towards Hermione's door, unsure of what he was supposed to say. He and Hermione had never talked about what they would say to Ron when the time came, they had both been particularly skilful in avoiding the subject altogether. But here was the problem, right in front of him and Harry could have kicked himself. Did he honestly think Ron wouldn't come looking for her eventually?

The only question now was what on _earth_ was he going to say? Somehow he didn't think; 'Oh hey Ron, listen, Hermione's been ignoring you for almost two weeks and she's been staying at my place. Oh and also, I've been in love with her for years.' was going to go down too well.

'Come to see Hermione too?' Ron asked. 'I don't reckon she's here.'

Harry figured that there was nothing wrong with the truth, as long as it wouldn't cause too much of a fuss. It made him feel less guilty about neglecting to tell Ron about all of this.

'Nah,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'I'm just picking up some stuff.' He pulled out the neatly written checklist that Hermione had given him that morning and, trying to seem natural, rolled his eyes and grinned at Ron as if trying to say 'Hermione will be Hermione.'

'Oh,' Ron said, an unreadable expression plastered across his face. Harry could tell he was trying to seem nonchalant. 'So…you've seen her then?

Harry nodded, avoiding a straight answer.

'Well, er, I just thought she had been busy at work, that's all.'

Harry made a noise of acknowledgement, again evading a direct comment and then began to rummage through his pockets. Ron seemed to feel the need to continue the conversation and eliminate the silence so spoke to the echoing corridor.

'Well, If you're trying to get in, good luck, Hermione's got all her wards up and-

He stopped abruptly because Harry had pulled out his key and was already unlocking the door before his brain processed what Ron was talking about.

There was silence as the door swung open with a loud creak. Harry looked back at Ron's face, which was displaying an expression of hurt surprise.

'She never gave _me_ a key.' Ron said quietly, deliberately not looking Harry's way.

It was extremely rare that an awkward silence was heard within a conversation of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, and it was anything but comfortable. There was the slightest tension, though both covered up their temporary uneasy demeanour and walked passed the threshold without a word.

Harry, seeking to get away from Ron as quickly as possible began instantly collecting Hermione's bits and pieces. He walked in and out of rooms, levitating books, clothing, a few photos, slowly checking things off the list as he went.

Ron merely hovered, his hands still meekly in his pockets, looking unsure it he should stay, go sit down or stand. His gaze followed Harry's travels eyeing the things he collected in silence.

Inside, Harry's thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour. He was worried about Ron's silence, was it a bad omen? Could he see right through him? He _hated_ this, hated the feeling that he was betraying his best friend. He felt so selfish, what had happened to him these past weeks? Standing right in from of him had been half of the reason he had never told Hermione how he felt in the first place. It was harder being around Ron than he had anticipated.

As Harry was finishing up, Ron was fiddling with things in the kitchen. He seemed to be purposely keeping to himself, unsure of a topic to bring up, but Harry had some burning questions that he just couldn't ignore. As he shoved the piece of paper back into his pocket he cleared his throat and watched Ron look up, eager to progress to a comfortable conversation.

'Erm…Ron, how come you hadn't tried to see Hermione until now?'

Ron flushed and rubbed the back of his neck in a slightly apologetic fashion.

'Oh…' He said, trying to find the right words that wouldn't embarrass him. 'You, er, heard about that then? Hermione tell you?'

Harry nodded once in affirmation so Ron continued, thought it was clear he wouldn't have told Harry had he not already known. Ron's pride often got in the way at times like this, though he would never admit it.

'Well, I thought she would want some space, you know? I thought girls needed time to…_think_, or whatever…' He trailed off lamely, and Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes.

'_Ron_,' he groaned, looking at him in exasperation, and for a short moment they were back to being themselves again. 'Most girls, but not _Hermione_. That's the _worst_ thing you could have done.'

Ron's brows furrowed in confusion, comprehending Harry's sentence, and Harry continued, relishing in the feeling of being back to normal. It was like he had never been interested in Hermione in the first place. The guilt washed away for a few blissful seconds and it was just him and Ron.

'You gotta be clear otherwise she'll take the silence as a bad omen and start analysing everything, that's what she's like. You know that.'

Ron was squinting and Harry could tell he was mentally trying to take notes. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, occasionally scuffing Hermione's clean kitchen floor with his shoe.

Harry, having finished his little speech, rattled the keys in his fingers and stuffed the now shrunken bag of Hermione's things into his pocket. He gave a small cough and wandered towards the front door, watching Ron still stand there in deep thought.

'Well, erm,' he began uneasily. 'We better…'

Though he trailed off the rest of his sentence, Ron seemed to get the gist of what Harry was trying to say and snapped out of his reverie.

'Oh! Yeah, I have to go anyway, I've got…' His sentence trailed off too, but Harry didn't question it.

He was just about to shut the door when a last minute thought popped into his head and he backtracked, jogging quickly into the kitchen and pulling a mug from the shelves. Ron poked his head around the doorframe to watch curiously but Harry was soon joining him on the other side, locking the flat and tucking the keys away.

Ron tilted his head at the ladybirds slowly crawling upon the area of the mug and Harry's clenched hand around its handle tightened.

'It's her favourite.'

Ron blinked as Harry mumbled his brief explanation. 'How do you know?'

Harry gave a small smile, as if remembering a memory and tilted the object towards Ron so he could see into its depths.

'See?'

Within the immaculate white outer rim, the contents was faded, dark, chocolate coloured stains splashed the bottom, unable to be scrubbed out. Places were chipped or worn within the space from wall to floor, and the underside of the handle was rubbed off and pale looking.

It happened in a split second. Ron looked at the mug in Harry's hand, pausing, and something clicked heavily into place in his head like opening a locked door. Harry knew he had finally pieced it all together, even if it had been fairly delayed. Ron wasn't an idiot. His voice was emotionless and his eyes displayed no accusation, which in some way was much, _much_ worse. It might have been better if he had yelled.

'She's staying with you.'

It wasn't a question. Harry stared plainly back, looking like a statue.

'She's staying with me.'

Ron showed no sign of anger, he didn't try to throw a punch or make threats. Indeed, he said nothing at all.

Within the hallways, no sound could be heard, save for a man apparating on the spot. The piercing sound was brief and crisp, like the crack of a whip.

Harry could do nothing but stare at where Ron had been moments before, and wonder whether a friendship had disintegrated along with his emotionless figure.

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**Well, there's another chapter over and done with. Let me take this time to say that I hope the first scene with Harry and Luna got the message across, I had the upmost trouble with the whole thing. It got to the point where I was just about to post and ended up rewriting the whole scene because Harry**** (or Luna for that matter) just hadn't come out the way I wanted them too. **

**I really wanted to portray the intense bond that Harry and Luna share, because it was important that readers realise their solace in each other and their upmost understanding for their friend. Friendship is one of the strongest things in the world, and things would be a lot better if we had someone like them to turn to when we needed it. So anyway, I hope that came across the way I wanted it to. **

**I think they'll be roughly two or three more chapters before this is done, so bear with me. **

**Also, I can't tell you enough how much reviews make my day, so if you truly enjoyed this, please, please, **_**please**_** review and tell me what you thought. You guys are my reassurance and my comfort. 3**


	7. Forever

**Dude. I suck. No, seriously. How long ago has it been since I have updated? I didn't have any idea how long it had actually been. This is getting a bit ridiculous. You'll all have to go and read the entire story again, I expect. Sorrrryyy ^^ I wish I could tell you an excuse, I could harp on about finishing school and starting uni and blah blah but really, it just hasn't been on my mind for quite a while. Though, do not fear, the end is in sight, Hermione and Harry will have their ending. How I love them so, 3**

**RAINY DAYS WILL BE FINISHED. **

**To satisfy you all at least for a little while, here is a ridiculous chapter that is close to 6000 words long. Again, crazy. It really should have been broken up into two but I really didn't have the heart, so its just a really really long one xD**

**ENOUGH OF ME TALKING. Thank you to all the reviews I have received, know that I read each and every one, and that they truly make all the difference. If you like, please write. Enjoy.**

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He was going to tell her today. Tonight. Before the night was over, she would know.

Fuck.

What the hell was he thinking? There had to be a better way to do this.

No. It had to be tonight. He had wasted enough time dancing circles around his affections and the possibilities that lay ahead if Hermione happened to return them, he couldn't put it off any longer.

Harry crossed out a few words for the umpteenth time that morning and rewrote them, frustrated. As simple as he tried to make his feelings, they sure weren't fond of repeating themselves on paper. He needed it to be _perfect._

…What would she say?

For one panic stricken minute Harry realized that he hadn't even given a thought to what she might say or do _after_ he'd told her. He had a terrifying image of her throwing various items at his face and storming from the room in disgust. _Good lord. _What does a normal person do if their best friend confesses their undying love?

Oh god. There was no way he could do this. Switzerland was looking pretty good right now.

He got up from the kitchen table and threw the quill down so it clattered noisily. Kicking over the waste paper bin by accident, he cursed under his breath. Today was not a good day, the weatherman predicted rain. Figures.

With much pacing and wearing of the carpet, half an hour later Harry was at the point of mild hysteria, a state of which he was not accustomed to, and was now considering starting up some sort of elaborate hobby, like knitting. Whilst circling the couch he came to the firm decision not to panic. There was no use worrying about Hermione just yet, she wasn't even here. He had plenty of time to prepare, and when she did walk through the door he could just march right up to her and-

'Oh my lord, Diagon alley is _packed._ I could barely squeeze in and Ginny is far taller than me so I still don't know how she- Harry, what on earth are you doing?'

Halfway around the coffee table at this point, Harry stood there, frozen to the spot as he stared at her somewhat frightening image. Truth be told, she looked rather bewildered, but he was still slightly hysterical.

'Hermione! Right! Didn't expect to- that is, back already?'

He hurried over to her and hastily snatched her bags from her fingers, as she comprehended his disjointed sentences. She stumbled in, gazing after him and placed a hand on her forehead as if all his movement was giving her a mild headache. After a second of steadying herself, she rekindled the conversation.

'Uh, yes. I somehow found a way to escape Ginny's clutches with a rather pathetic excuse because really, that girl is exhausting. Thankfully I managed to sneak away before she spotted anything _else_ in a shop front window but…'

Harry watched her mouth move but heard nothing, standing there still clutching her shopping awkwardly as he nodded in what looked like pauses. Hermione either didn't realize or chose to ignore his behavior for her voice never faltered. It was only when she had pulled the curtains wide open and dazzled Harry with sunlight did he come out of deep thought. He blinked, stammered some sort of reply he couldn't for the life of him remember and hurried the conversation along. Throughout the morning's pandemonium he had come to only one conclusion. Women were very complicated.

It was no surprise to Harry that he couldn't quite recall agreeing to a midday trip to the park. But then, Hermione was very persuasive, especially when victims had no knowledge of said compromise. Before he knew it Hermione had him collapsing onto the lush grass at his feet and staring up at the surprisingly clear sky. Truthfully, he found it rather inconvenient and a tad embarrassing to notice that he spent most of the time staring at her, but he attempted to look as inconspicuous as humanly possible.

He watched her clasp her hands on her stomach and kick her shoes off, smiling to herself as they lay there in stillness. Harry tried to think of something to say, but it seemed easier to remain quiet. In truth, he knew precisely what could fill the space but his mouth just couldn't form the words, and he sighed.

Hermione turned her head to look at him and smiled, misinterpreting his exclamation for one of contentment. The sun shone brightly and Harry watched her glow slowly under it's light.

'This is _heaven_.' She said softly, and he tore his eyes away from hers to gaze back above him, thinking he would give anything to freeze frame right then and there.

'A nice change from the rain, don't you think?'

_Oh. _Harry's heart sunk a little She had been talking about the weather. Go figure. He let out a defeated mumble of half hearted agreement.

There was a pause in which Hermione closed her eyes and Harry snuck a peek at her face and wondered why on earth he had to go and fall in love. There were so many things that could go wrong, _so_ many. What would he do if he had to live without her? He almost loved her enough to let her go, just so he could keep her forever. _Almost. _

'I'll miss this.'

Her voice broke his thoughts, and he frowned slightly. 'It's not going anywhere, and neither are we.'

Hermione didn't look at him. 'The rain will return, it always does. Nothing lasts forever. Who knows when we will see this again?' She lifted a hand to motion towards the sky, and then let it fall heavily back to her side.

This left them in further silence. Harry fidgeted with blades of grass that tickled his palm and quietly began to hope he never saw another storm cloud again. His mind travelled to the departure of Ron, and Harry wondered where he was at that very moment. The lack of any substantial emotion from his best friend had left Harry both anxious and confused. Not only was it extremely out of character, it was very little to go by. He didn't know how much time he had before Ron decided to try to talk to Hermione again. Harry dreaded the day Ron came knocking and asked him to hand back his girlfriend on a silver platter. And, and even worse prospect, that Hermione would leave willingly.

He looked back at Hermione, still gazing at the sky and wondered what was to become of her, would she pretend like nothing had ever happened? No, she couldn't. It seemed impossible to look into the future and see something different that their days spent under the sun.

There was a sudden movement and Harry recoiled slightly as Hermione propped herself up on one elbow in a single quick movement.

'Harry, what if we left, right now?'

Harry, understandably was a tad stunned. He blinked, then gave a small stammer. 'W-What?'

'Left.' She repeated. 'Disappeared without a trace.' There was a strange sort of eagerness in her eyes. 'We could run away, to somewhere sunny, and warm and peaceful. Where nobody can find us. We could take walks on the beach every day and never wonder where all the time went. Just us, we wouldn't need anyone else. You and me.'

Harry stared at her. His voice caught painfully in his throat but all he could comprehend were the large brown eyes at level with his own. His mind filled with images of sand and sun and sea. Of late mornings and secrets and moments all of their own, it made his head hurt with longing.

A moment passed and then, Hermione laughed and threw herself back onto the grass. Harry remained upright, frozen, his mind still putting together her words.

'…`Mione?'

She turned to him, the laughter still evident on her face. Harry gave her a long piercing look before shaking his head and not saying a word. There was a small twitch on the corner of Hermione's mouth and her eyes softened for a fraction of a second so that Harry could not be sure he had really seen it before it had disappeared and she was shrugging her shoulders.

Harry was now thoroughly confused.

Hermione pulled a book out of her bag and wriggled across so she could prop her head on the side of his stomach. Harry barely noticed; he was too busy concentrating on the roughly folded piece of paper in his back pocket that may as well have been a howler, with the words it seemed to be screaming at him. It was all he could do to not reinvent the million and one excuses as to why he shouldn't say anything. How do you summon up love in a sentence?

Time passed slowly as the lay there but Harry didn't notice, there were too many things to consider. It hurt to think about Hermione, so he wandered back to his years in the cupboard under the stairs. There were times when he would wake in the night with sweat on his brow and a racing heart, always because of the same thing. He dreamed he had nothing, that there was no worth in his existence, no reason that warranted his importance. He _was_ nothing because he _had_ nothing. He surveyed grudgingly the world that had always thought him to be 'the chosen one', the one worth more than all their souls combined. And now, he looked back at his young life to see the lives of his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, come and go just as fleetingly it was no wonder he clung to Hermione so ferociously. She was his something.

Witches and wizards would look upon his figure in either admiration or pity, but both for the same reason. He had loved and lost in such a quantity that he could never wish it upon another. For all he knew, to love was to lose, and he could not lose Hermione. He would rather not to have loved at all. Guess it was too late for that now.

Harry's hands reached over and gently clasped Hermione's book shit, mustering all the courage he could find. He spoke clearly but quietly.

'Hermione.'

She rolled over and looked up at him quizzically, with no recognition in her features, but worry upon her face. He faltered under her gaze, the unexpectedness caught him off guard and it took him a moment to remember what he wanted to say.

'I've never-I mean, sometimes I wonder if-do you think you…'

Harry mentally kicked himself. Had Ron been there he would have snickered in the background. This was definitely not in the script.

He wanted to tell her, _oh _how badly he wanted her to know. How easy it seemed to just lean in and whisper the well-chosen words in his back pocket. He wanted to tell her just what she did to him, show how long he had sat in the silence and wondered if she felt it too. And there she was, right in front of his eyes, waiting.

_But he couldn't do it._

She was his something, and Harry would never forgive himself if he let her go.

The moment dragged but his stuttering had reduced itself to quietness until at last he stopped trying. He sighed deeply, disappointment evident clearly as it lined his features. Looking back up at Hermione's face for the last time her let out a small, defeated '…never mind.'

Hermione frowned and wrinkled her nose critically as she did when she knew something was not right. She tilted her head and tried to solve him but his eyes remained down. Harry felt her body rise to its feet and a hand appeared at his eye level, he took it. Her voice rang out in the familiar silence.

'We're late for coffee.'

Harry heard her words from a long way away, but took her outstretched hand anyway, knowing he could never refuse her.

* * *

Harry felt like a complete idiot. He had been sullen at best whilst they consumed their drinks and had dragged his feet along the pavement like a sulking child on the way home. He was livid at himself for being so indecisive, embarrassed that Hermione had watched every second of him being a dolt and unmotivated to come up with another elaborate scheme for his emotional unveiling. He wasn't Ron, scheming and deviating were not things he preferred to spend his evenings doing. He was tired and he was lonely and he didn't want to be doing this anymore.

Harry Potter had had enough.

To say that he was grumpy for the remainder of the afternoon would be an understatement. It was unfortunate that Hermione had to bear the brunt of such an attack because she had absolutely no idea what on earth had gotten into him. It got so bad at one point that she actually had to leave the house just to be rid of the face that was scowling for no apparent reason. She left him on the couch with his arms folded tightly over his chest and a hand flicking channels every few seconds. With a grunt in replace of a goodbye he looked briefly in her direction as she closed the door behind her and felt a slight twinge of guilt. It wasn't her fault. In fact, it was most definitely _not_ her fault; it was his, which made it twice as bad. Blaming someone else was far easier. He hadn't even asked her where she was going.

After sufficiently exhausting the remote and proving the lack of anything interesting on the television, Harry got out of his chair and wandered upstairs to take a shower. At this point in time the thought of hot water was extremely appealing, and he welcomed the steaming flow across his shoulders, if only for a little while. It was here that he lost all sense of time and space, of who he was or what he wanted, and for that he was grateful. Feelings hurt, he was glad to escape them.

When he left the bathroom, the sky beyond his window was dark. He heard he dull echoes of insects below and opened the window to let the snowy owl flutter down onto his bed. Hedwig peered at his brooding expression and almost rolled her large eyes in exasperation. He took what turned out to be the month's Quibbler from her talons and pointed his wand at the bedside table to conjure up a few owl treats, which banished her scathing look immediately.

With his companion otherwise occupied, Harry unrolled the magazine and scanned the cover before flicking through its pages in an attempt to find any of Luna's articles that might cheer him up. His eyes fell past the paragraphs on spattergroit and the latest Ministry conspiracies to a small segment at the back. They reminded him of the horoscopes in muggle women's magazines, and he smirked at the memory of Ron reading his fortune from an old snippet Mr Weasley had found. After thoroughly taking it to heart, Ron had skipped every crack in the pavement for a whole month so that he would be lucky in money. It had ended fairly badly, what with Harry barely being able to walk with a hopping lunatic down the street or listen to the reasons why the hamburger bar on the corner was a great investment.

This one was different, however. It fell open on a double page and had crisscrossing lines of 'Yes' and 'No' questions and other such variations so tightly squeezed in together that Harry could hardly read the writing. Eventually he found what appeared to be the beginning and read the first question.

Question One – _If given the choice, would you rather die by means of: (a) Shark Attack or (b) Medieval torture? _

The questions, to Harry's disbelief, got more and more ridiculous as the survey went on. He was asked everything from what kind of sausage he preferred to how he would cover up his neighbor's murder. He was just about to give up and throw the magazine and all it's insanity into the bin when he came to the last question.

Question One hundred and thirteen –_ If you could go back and change the way your life unraveled, would you?_

Harry paused for the first time and let his fingers just skim the corners of the page, not knowing quite what to say. In truth, he had never thought about it before. The harsh realities of the past permanently stung him and even now it hurt to think of what and who he had left behind. The lives of all who had sacrificed themselves for him, the horrors he had seen and constantly tried to forget. He was sourly tempted to give a definite 'Yes' and be done with it, but something held him back. There was a small nagging in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite shake, and the familiar brown eyes that haunted him around the clock sprung back into life in the foreground of his head. Hermione.

He would never change the way they had been, the way they were. Ever. Not for a million happy moments spent being someone else, not for all the money in England. Every second he was with her made his heart leap out of his chest, and that feeling was worth all the unhappiness in the world, if it meant that she was in it. His eyes followed the path that held the word _'No.'_

Harry came to a conclusive end and glanced down the list of horoscopes until he found the one his path had taken. The words were short and inconspicuous, so he expected nothing of consequence.

_The fear you hold, though justified, is useless. Perhaps you should be spending more time doing and less time fearing, for the more time it takes the less time you have. Be wise in your timing, for a step in one direction is a step away from another. Nothing lasts forever._

With a brief ripping sound the page was torn from its place and crumpled tightly in Harry's hands. He threw it down somewhere over his shoulder and didn't look at it again. Had someone been there he would have joked that Luna had finally cracked, but Harry knew that what it was telling him shouldn't be (but sounded very much like) the truth.

Harry had never liked the truth. The truth was messy.

The rest of the night passed incredibly slowly, and Harry fidgeted around the house with absolutely nothing to do but sulk and pull things out of the fridge. It was only then that he wondered how on earth he entertained himself before Hermione had come to stay; it seemed unbelievable that it had only been a few short weeks.

Speaking of his best friend, Harry glanced briefly at his watch and wished he had paid more attention to Hermione when she had walked out the door all those hours ago. It irked him that he liked to know where she was, just so he could reassure himself.

Another moment passed in which Harry fiddled with his fingers before he came to an impulsive decision and reached for the phone, Hermione's number already in his head. In no time at all he had the receiver to his ear and was waiting to hear the dial tone when a sudden shrill noise echoed out from the kitchen. Harry turned and peered into the room, only to find a buzzing response to his own call. He picked the vibrating object up in his hand, seeing his own name flashing on the screen and sighed. He would just have to wait.

The fridge was wiped clean of all its edible contents and the fire whisky was being cracked open before Harry had even really registered it was happening. In an act of complete self-pity he heaved the box of board games out of their place under the stairs and wrenched them open in an attempt to find something to entertain himself. This soon appeared to be a very bad idea as everything was made for two or more players, only reminding him of his solitary status and the fact that Hermione was not there to compete with. Not good. The fire whisky was given more attention as the lack of anything else to keep him occupied became apparent.

Hours and hours passed as Harry fought the urge not to look at his watch. Hedwig hooted from somewhere upstairs and he finally scowled and gave in to the temptation of checking the time. _11.43pm_. Where _was_ she?

It was then that the door swung open and Harry leaped to his feet, bottle still in hand and raced to the door in the most eloquent manner he could manage under the circumstances. To his relief, it was, of course, Hermione and he greeted her with such enthusiasm that she took a momentary step back.

'Hermione!'

She took in his disheveled stature and the fire whisky in his hand and gave a suspicious glare. He shrugged sheepishly and quickly dropped the bottle down on a nearby table.

'Where have you been? You could have at least told me you were-

'I doubt you would have listened had I told you where I was going, Harry.' Hermione replied, slightly sharper than he was used to hearing and he recoiled gently. She softened her expression. 'Sorry. I just-never mind. What have you been up to while I was out? Not too many of _those_, I hope' she grasped the whisky and let it fall into the bin.

'Nah, not really.' Harry mumbled, hoping she wouldn't look into the fridge anytime soon, but it seemed he was in luck and that her mind was otherwise occupied. She immediately headed for the couch, wrapping her long curls around to fall over a single shoulder and reaching down to take off her shoes. Harry followed her eagerly and sat down, awaiting a conversation. Apparently his insistent staring got to Hermione because she tilted her head upward towards him and frowned, irritated. 'What?' she demanded, halfway through untying a shoelace.

Again, it was harsher than the situation called for, and Harry must have worn a slightly hurt expression because she didn't say anything else for a short while. The two sat in an awkward pause until Hermione got up and disappeared into he kitchen. Harry watched her go, intensely confused. He probably should have let it be for a couple of minutes but Harry couldn't help it, and in any case, it was Hermione. He strode in to find her leaning over the kitchen bench, a serious expression on her usually calm features. His voice sounded loud in the silence.

'What's up?'

She looked up as if only just noticing he was there but brushed him off with a wave of her hand. 'Nothing, Harry. I'm just tired.'

Harry didn't buy it. In a few short strides he was in front of her and had grabbed her arms gently to stop her casting him aside for a third time. 'Hey,' he hushed. 'What is it? Tell me.'

She didn't reply.

'_Hermione.'_ He dipped his head to try and catch her eyes and eventually succeeded, for once they made contact she couldn't seem to look away. She sighed, and for a moment Harry's heart began to pound. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

Hermione looked up at him with a gaze that felt like she didn't quite know what to tell him, but her mouth opened and words fell out, regardless.

'I saw Ron.'

A million and one emotions flashed though Harry's head like a lightning bolt and he gripped her arms more tightly, as if he never wanted to let go. She must have noticed because she pried him off her and took a few steps away. Harry seemed to have lost the ability to speak so she continued without him, a strange quiver in her voice.

'He…he was okay. Calm, even. Like I've never seen him. He sat me down and we talked for ages, I can't even remember what about. He told me about why he hadn't called, that he didn't want to push me…that he missed me.'

Harry couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't do anything but stand there listening to her throw the fragmented sentences out for his ears to hear and comprehend in muddled formations. It was like it was all happening in slow motion yet way, way too fast.

'He seemed so…_collected_, you know? I don't know what has happened to him during all this time, but it was like waking up back when we were young and in love and had nothing to worry about but each other and…god I don't know. Like we used to be. And…and I miss that, Harry. _So_ much. We were so good, back then. Everyone thought so, even you.'

_That was before I fell in love with you._

'…And, well, he thought we could see if we could make it right this time, for good. Start back up the way we were before all of the fighting, before all of the _mess.'_

Speaking for the first time since she began, Harry choked out an attempt at a sentence. '…And what did you say?'

She wasn't looking at him anymore; she was fiddling with the front pocket of her jeans, her eye downcast and shaded from his gaze. 'I…said yes.'

There was complete and utter silence.

'No.'

Hermione flicked her head upwards and stared at Harry, who was no longer afraid to look her in the eyes. Something had snapped, and if it were able Harry could have sworn his heart had just cracked in two. He looked at her with an intensity that made her more nervous than she could ever remember being, but there was no thought going through his head anymore. He had seen enough. Now, he was going to be heard.

'No, Hermione.'

She continued to stare, not knowing what to say. 'Harry, listen-

'No, _you_ listen. This isn't like before, we aren't at Hogwarts anymore and you both aren't the same people who started all of this in the first place. You're too different now, Hermione. Stop fighting it and accept that this just _isn't going to work.'_

Hermione lifted her chin as her arms crossed over each other slowly, a strange look in her eyes. 'I think _I_ have a better idea of my relationship with Ron than _you_, Harry. I-

Harry gave a dark, curt laugh. 'That's just it Hermione, you don't. All these years I've stood by and watched you guys tear yourselves apart over this, and for what? A few mediocre moments? You could do so much better, `Mione, you're wasting your life away on a relationship based on what _used_ to be, not what _is_.'

She clenched her hands into tight fists and glared at him incredulously. 'I could do better? Ron is your _best friend_ Harry, and you're telling me I could do better?'

'You're missing the point.' Harry argued, taking a step forward again, but in her repeated fashion Hermione fell back once more.

'No, I'm exactly on the point. Its _my_ relationship Harry, I'll do what I want.' With that, Hermione turned and brandished her wand so that objects began whizzing about the house, zooming towards her feet. Harry felt some of his anger leave him, and he faltered. '…What are you doing?'

Hermione sighed, her back still to him. 'What does it look like Harry?' Her things began to shrink themselves into a travel bag as she surveyed the rest of the living room for stray books.

There was a pause and Harry listened to his own footsteps on the wooden floor to distract him from the carnage in front of his eyes. His head began to spin.

_No, no, no, no. _

'Hermione, you…you can't leave.'

She didn't look at him. 'Why not?'

He hadn't planned a response, but knew he had to say something, _anything_. He crouched down to where she was peering under cushions and her eyes flickered to his for a spit second then pulled away as if she didn't want to hear what he had to say.

'Because…because I only just got you back.'

Hermione bit her lip and Harry watched as her hands wrapped around the cushion that seemed to have become her private friend after all the tearstained nights clutching it. She parted her lips to say something, then apparently thought better of it and dropped the cushion, leaving Harry hanging. He listened as her shuffled feet ascended the stairs towards her bedroom, but didn't move. He stayed there, deep in suspended thought and regret that by the time she came back down laden with shrunken objects he had barely noticed the time it had taken.

'Hermione, don't.' Harry pleaded, chasing after her after once more finding the feeling in his legs, a painful throbbing developing deep within his chest. 'Don't do this.'

She still wouldn't look at him, but her eyes were glazed and hazy. 'Harry, this is the right thing, trust me. I know what I'm doing.'

She began to pick up her small bags and headed for the door, but Harry raced there faster and stood between her and the exit, his hands outstretched towards her. He started to babble frantically, all his words seemed to merge together.

'Wait! What about the beach? _Our_ beach? Where we walked all day and time didn't matter and all we had to worry about was us? Just you and me, remember? Let's go, let's go right now! I don't care; we can get up and leave. You said you wanted that. _Just us_.'

Hermione looked at him properly for the first time that night, blinking away tears furiously, refusing to show any overwhelming emotion for fear it would make the situation worse. 'Harry I…I _can't_.'

'…`Mione. _Please._' Harry's voice broke on the last word, and he found himself unknowingly closer to her. With a trembling motion he reached out and rested his hand on her cheek, letting his thumb fall back and forth underneath her jaw. She did nothing but fight the tears and gaze up at him with no expression. He could barely stand to look at her, he was so afraid.

'Stay with me. I need you.'

In one painfully slow, deliberate moment, Hermione pulled his hand from her face with prying fingers.

'Harry, you need to let me go.'

As if in slow motion, Hermione side stepped Harry's body and walked through the door. And Harry let her. There was a sudden crack, and the house was silent once more, with nothing but the creaking door to fill the empty space. Harry couldn't think. The pain circled him in a throbbing state of paralysis, a pincer's grip that tightened with every lonely moment passed. It was done, and she was gone. He had failed.

The door clicked softly back into place behind him but his body did not allow it to rest for much longer, he hurled his back into the wood as hard as he was able, and slid down it, wanting to feel a kind of pain that wasn't caused by brown eyes. He reached the floor and his head fell into his hands desperately, his face devoid of emotion but his eyes stinging with anguish. She was gone.

Outside, the rumble of an oncoming storm approached, its ferocity no match for man that night, though it did try. The rain would not cease at all as everybody slept, but it was only Harry who would try to ignore the heavy intruders on his roof, they fell on already drowning sorrows.

The last thing he could remember was her words echoing softly in his head, over and over.

_Nothing lasts forever_.

* * *

**God, can I actually NOT be angsty for once? I'm really a very chirpy, positive person in real life, I swear xD I think I just like troubled, misunderstood heroes. Rofl. **

**Please review if you liked what you read, and I'll try as hard as I can to get the big next chapter up and running, its sure to be a doozy.**


	8. Easy

**It was raining when I began writing this chapter, very fitting, I think. **

**Thank you all for being so patient, I won't lie, I kind of put this fic aside for a bloody long time. What can I say? I have a very short attention span and I had sudden inspiration for another fic that took all my creative juices. BUT, the other day I opened this and saw how close I was to finishing it, and I couldn't just leave this the way I had, especially when I was so close to the end. Apologies for any spelling errors etc., I rushed my usually very long editing process to get this up quickly. **

**So here is the second last chapter, enjoy, review, and I shall see you on the other side. **

_Today there's an empty space,_

_I find you gone without a trace._

_Maybe I should have told you yesterday,_

_Maybe then you would have stayed._

_I was going to tell you today,_

_I even wrote the words I could say._

_I finally found the courage,_

_But now it's too late._

_

* * *

_

The time passed, and Harry didn't notice. Truth was, he didn't really care. He didn't care that it was still raining, didn't care that darkness had consumed the house around him, didn't care that he was still sitting with his back to the door, staring down at his shoes. He wouldn't have minded if he never had to care about anything ever again.

_Hermione shielded her head pitifully with her hands, and slapped Harry on the arm when he laughed at her ridiculous running image. Realising the removal of her hands she squealed and shoved them back into place above her, the drops of water coming down hard and fast. Harry's hair stuck to his forehead and he smiled, not bothering to protect himself, his figure was already wet enough to forgive the continuous stream. He wrapped a side of his large coat around Hermione though, and she ducked under his form, rain dripping down her nose. _

_They scanned the almost deserted street, watching as people scattered, their umbrellas raised high. Harry spotted the small wooden sign hanging from an inconspicuous doorway a few feet in front of them and they jogged the rest of the way. Hermione heaved the door open and the little bell tinkled merrily, oblivious to the thundering weather outside. There was little movement inside the café, though a young waitress behind the counter looked up briefly to smile at their expressions, then continued to fuss over ordered coffees. _

_Harry unwrapped Hermione from inside his coat and shook his hair out like a dog, an act that certainly didn't impress his companion, for she blocked his spray with her hands and whined at him. He grinned at her under his fringe and she rolled her eyes, stalking away towards the back of the room, settling into a booth in the corner. Harry followed and slid down opposite her, his hands slouching on the counter as Hermione pulled her hair to one side and began wringing it out._

'_I've had just about enough of this country's ridiculous obsession with __rain__. We could have been born somewhere warm, where it doesn't bucket down every second day, Australia, EGYPT. But no, oh no, we turned out British. Fabulous. Ugh, I have rain in my __shoes.__' Hermione's hair was beginning to make a puddle of water on the floor, and she glared at it as if it had personally insulted her. Harry silently pulled out his wand and banished the evidence under the table, ignoring Hermione's reprimanding._

'_Harry, be careful! Put that away.'_

_He stuck it back in the pocket of his jeans as the waitress walked over to them and pulled out a pen. 'Haven't seen you folks in here before, still coming down hard out there?'_

'_You could say that.' Hermione sighed, shaking out her scarf. _

_The waitress smiled. 'I'm sure I have something that'll warm you right up.' With that she turned and wandered back down the aisle of tables, flicking the pen back behind her ear. _

_Harry looked about him in mild interest while in the corner of his eye Hermione was apparently emptying her shoes. The place had a comfortable type of warmth about it, its chocolate coloured walls were welcoming and a small melody of old jazz filled the silence. He supposed that because it was small, inconspicuous and out of the way of the inner streets of London, the café itself was relatively unknown. Indeed, he had never noticed it before in his life, but it was nice. It was quiet, it was muggle, and no one was staring in their direction whispering about the golden trio. _

_Harry's thoughts ran briefly over the third member of their friendship, Hermione's boyfriend, and smirked at the image of Ron sitting in a muggle café where the menu's did not automatically record their orders. He had bailed on their morning outing because a friend in his department had just got the newest model of firebolt. No one had to say anything further; even Hermione didn't expect him to accompany them. _

_Ron and Hermione were in that stage of blissful happiness, those few months where everything looked brighter and days were best spent in the arms of one another. Harry didn't mind, though it was nice to have some time with just Hermione today, there was only so much he could handle of their delirious expressions across dinner tables and secret conversations held in whispers. They were happy though, and that was enough for him._

'_Well, this is nice.' Hermione stated, now with both shoes deserted under the table and her legs tucked up on cushions for warmth. She clasped her hands neatly in her lap, chin lifted, inspecting the surroundings. 'Strange we never noticed this place before, isn't it?'_

_Harry shrugged his shoulders. 'It's out of the way of the main road, I doubt we would have ever known it was here had we not been stuck in the rain.'_

_Hermione looked over her shoulder and peered out at the stormy sky, the long windows still getting a bashing from the heavens. Harry pulled the carefully folded newspaper that lay innocently on the table towards him and opened it up; half relieved to not see his own image sprawled across the front page. A few minutes later the waitress returned with a blazing hot chocolate for Hermione, who got one whiff of its wafting aroma and gave a low moan of appreciation. She clasped it in her hands and took a long sip with her eyes drifting closed, not noticing the waitress smirking at her discreetly as she handed Harry his own drink._

'_Took you more for a coffee man.' She said, winking and scooping up the menus. _

_Harry sniffed the mug gingerly and found it filling his nose with warmth and cosiness. He nestled further into his squashy chair and drank his coffee mercifully, watching the girl drift away from them once more, thinking her a wonder of the world. _

'_So, any thoughts on the ever looming career path?' Harry asked conversationally, looking over his mug to peer at Hermione. She wore a slightly frustrated look. _

'_I can't __believe__ Ron found a job so quickly, I always thought he'd be the last of us to settle down. I wish I was as certain as he is about all this, I mean, how can we possibly choose? What if we get it wrong? And of course-' She gave an unimpressed glare to the tabletop; '-how do we know if we're getting a position because of our abilities, or because of being…well, us?'_

_Harry scowled. He hated the fact that Ron and Hermione had been labelled war heroes and thus been thrust into the spotlight because of him. Ron didn't mind so much, but he knew Hermione despised it. _

'_No one in their right mind would hire you for anything else but being bloody brilliant, Hermione.'_

_She smiled gratefully at his words and brought her hot chocolate to her lips once again. 'What about you, Harry? Heard anything from the ministry yet?'_

_Harry ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his skull. 'Well, yes and no.'_

_After the war had ended, Harry had been flooded with requests of automatic Auror acceptance status from the Minister of Magic himself. After a thorough clean out of his mail, he had promptly thrown them all in the fire. For years he had received special treatment and been the subject of celebrity gossip, the last thing he wanted was to be guaranteed an easy street into the Auror department. Not when there were dozens of normal applicants who had worked tirelessly for years to even get a shot at the trials. No, he wanted to do it the right way, and had sent in an application for Auror training that very same day. He was going to do it like everybody else, regardless of what others thought._

'_Are you sure you want to go through all those years of training, Harry? You've had more experience than all of the recruits put together.' Hermione said, looking at him exasperatedly. He threw her a look and she closed her mouth, having already lost the argument. _

'_I can't base a career on self-taught luck, Hermione. The formal training is something I could never learn on my own.' _

_She shrugged over the table and he smiled. They didn't say any more on the subject after that, they were too young and too supremely happy to have left Hogwarts and its tall, stony walls. Harry would never suggest that he didn't look back on his former school with pride and fond memories, quite the contrary, it had been his home for as long as he felt he wanted to remember. Though, there is only so much one can take of the drama that seemed to follow him down dark hallways. _

_Not surprising to either Harry or Hermione, they never bothered with pauses in conversation or silent moments. It was a kind of freedom that they weren't used to but should have been. Not that they were trying to make up for lost time, not even Ron regretted the moments lost being stupid kids in the schoolyard sunshine. No one could say, though, that they had been given a chance to experience all the little pleasures of wasting the day away. It was convenient, then, that they didn't talk about the war, they didn't talk about Ron or Hogwarts or the future from then on. They talked about nothing and it was effortless. They laughed and smiled their way through the rest of the rain until it tired itself out, which was quite a feat. The previous companions they'd seen scattered in booths around them hours ago had long since left, to be replaced by a few new ones. Harry and Hermione didn't notice, nor did it matter, it was truly a blessing to be so absorbed in another's company. _

_The colour of the sky changed to a lazy afternoon glow, and the clouds began to part. If a small but sparkling piece of sun hadn't made it's way into Hermione's face, they probably wouldn't have stopped. She brought a hand up to cup her eyes and blinked, crinkling her nose and peering out the now brightly lit window, smiling. _

_They thanked the waitress as she sashayed past them and stepped out the door into the blazing sunlight, their eyes alight with a kind of soft appreciation. Harry glanced at his watch and felt Hermione peek over his shoulder as she too checked the time. They both scrunched up their faces in distaste at the hands on the clock and gave each other grim looks, beginning to walk back down the street with heavy feet. They were both surprised at how hard it was to walk away from the little café, it's little creaking sign calling to them in the breeze._

_They parted ways at the corner and bid each other goodbye with a brief hug, Hermione squeezing Harry around the middle and giving him the usual tickle of hair under his nose. They listened to each other's footsteps retreating in opposite directions until nothing could be heard anymore except the crunching of their own shoes on pavement. _

_It was quite a while before anything eventful happened, half an hour at least. Harry cracked first, as usual. Hermione picked up on the first ring. _

'_Same time tomorrow?'_

_The lines around her eyes crinkled, and she grinned into the phone. Harry could sense her expression, and smiled._

_

* * *

_

The darkness was cold and uninviting. Harry didn't know what time it was when he finally got up and turned on a light. It blinded him uncomfortably, he kept his head down, hands stuffed resolutely in his pockets; they seemed to fit quite perfectly. He clenched the inner material of his jeans with his fingernails. It was so quiet he could hear the low hum of the refrigerator. Small words tried to form themselves in Harry's head, making a somewhat feeble attempt to persuade his feelings, but an attempt nonetheless. At least now it was over. He didn't have to have Hermione's constant presence hovering about his life; he liked to think that would be a good thing. It was impossible to convince himself, however hard he tried.

There was a sharp crack and he felt the familiar squeezing sensation as he apparated. Nothing was going through his mind at that point, the numbness had not subsided. He opened his eyes and looked around him, the small, cold shopfront echoing with his sudden entrance. It was dark and deserted, looking much larger than usual with no one to occupy the space. The fires had been stifled many hours before, there was no tinkling of doorbells or cash registers, no quiet chatters or muffled old-fashioned music. Silence.

Harry looked about him at the place where he had so often thought of as peace, happiness, and though he could still smell the coffee and wooden floorboards, it did not feel like home. _She _was home. This space was merely the recipe that had brought them together, without her, it was just a memory. A ghost.

The sound of his feet reverberated off the walls and washed over him, Harry found himself standing over their booth but didn't have the nerve to sit down. He flitted from place to place, not quite knowing why he was there or what he wanted, but he hoped that the smell of coffee would calm his thoughts.

* * *

Harry missed that smell as he returned home late in the night, or was it early in the morning? The hours had blended together long ago. He stared blankly at the floor and trudged up the stairs, feeling a very small knot of untied relief. At least it was over. At least he was done pretending. There wouldn't be any lying, there wouldn't be any fighting, there wouldn't be any nervous words scribbled on misshapen bits of paper. He was free. Harry gave a grim smile at the morbid silver lining.

Then, _a sound._

The previous thoughts vanished from his mind as if they had never been there, his heart tore from his chest and he catapulted himself off the stairs and towards the front door, his head pounding. He even surprised himself at his instant reaction and hadn't even stopped to think before he had wrenched the door open and thrown himself out into the rain. Harry's eyes scanned the darkness but it didn't take long to find what he was looking for, and he stopped dead.

She had jumped hearing the large slam and turned sharply on her heels to find Harry standing there, her hands at her forehead as if she was struggling to comprehend if and why she was there. Without meaning to, she flung herself through the rain and up the steps to meet him face to face, his eyes falling downwards into hers in piercing confusion. The water pounded on them both in a continuous rhythm, again and again. Hermione opened her mouth to speak with a mixture of frustration and fear hidden in her expression, her chest heaving up and down.

'When I left, you said that you needed me.'

Harry didn't answer, he stared down, stony faced.

'And when you looked at me, I thought I saw-...' She cut off her words, shook her head and cursed under her breath, before attempting again, inhaling hugely before she did so, as if trying to let the sentence all out in one breath.

'I couldn't just leave without checking if you…if you felt the way that I think you do.'

Again, no answer. She glared at Harry and threw her hands about, running them through her wet hair and pacing about in front of him. 'Damn it Harry, you can't do this to me! You can't just go and do…_that_, and then leave this up to me to figure out because I don't know, …_I don't know._ And I _hate_ that I might be…'

She shook her head, as if trying to squash thoughts out of it. 'And I don't do change. I just don't. Change is messy, and complicated, and _you_ made me do it, and that's not fair, Harry! You stupid, _stupid_ man and your 'feelings' or whatever you want to call them. I never wanted you to go and make me think that maybe…'

Hermione lifted her gaze, Harry could see her trembling slightly but didn't know if it was because of the rain or the sound of her own voice. 'But you and me, we're just so…' A tortured smile twitched at her lips.

'…_Easy_.'

Harry let out a long breath and leant forward to rest his forehead on hers, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments as if to let his head catch up with her words. Hermione reached in front of her and curled her fingers around his shirt quietly; she was gazing up at him as he reopened his eyes, a small frown upon her face.

Harry just looked back at her, and without saying a word he dipped his head and let his lips fall against hers, gently, effortlessly, as if he had done it every day of his life. He felt her rise up on her toes as he began to pull away, her hand finding its way behind his head as she lingered there and when their lips separated she remained nose to nose.

There was a pause in which they stood there motionless, until Hermione looked down and slid her fingers into his. She led him out of the rain and into the house, her back to him all the while, and it wasn't until the door clicked resolutely back into place that she glanced up at him once more. Harry didn't waste any time, he stepped that extra inch closer and pulled her towards him, their lips meeting before either could express anything else that might get in the way. It was idyllic, out of this world. There was a tug at his shirt and a shift of her body below him, flattening herself more resolutely against the door but Harry was barely aware of it. His brain was in overdrive. There was a tension in the way they embraced each other that surprised them both, it was a hungry, frustrated kind of grip that was not rational. Her hands were in his hair as fast as his had wrapped around her waist, their perfect unison unnoticed by either of them. There was a moment in which brief thought returned to Harry, but Hermione chose that moment to collect his lower lip in hers and tug on it, it was then he completely lost the small amount of control he still had remaining. His tongue found hers and they explored each other blissfully, a flame igniting between the both of them and spurring them on. They grabbed at each in a frenzied attempt to make up for lost time, feeling each other's breath at necks, noses, not knowing who was who.

There was a dull thud as Hermione attempted to push Harry backwards and he collided with the stair banister, he made a muffled sound and felt behind him for the wall, meaning to take a step upwards but his momentary lapse in concentration had caused their lips to part and Hermione's teeth begun to lightly graze underneath his jaw. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head and though he had the best intentions to coerce her up the staircase he knew they just weren't going to make it that far. He wrapped his arms tightly around her hips, heaving her upwards and with a sharp crack they had both disapparated, finding themselves at the top of the stairs. Harry heard the scramble of nails on his doorhandle, felt briefly the breeze of something closing behind him but that was about as far as he could remember about anything else other than _her._

Harry hadn't released her hips but there was no way in hell that he was going to now, he was very aware at how they had wrapped themselves around him, how he could feel her heels in his back. She pulled them closer and slid her hands down to peel off her shirt; Harry followed her with his own fingers. Her skin was cold, damp; it stuck to the material covering it. In a last tug it was gone and Harry was everywhere, appreciating her. Hermione let him, curling her upper body around his head, her lips brushing his forehead, his neck.

Somewhere in Harry's head there was the constant ringing of disbelief and he could not yet quite comprehend that she was here, that they were doing this. They shed clothing without thinking, naturally, easily, and as Harry felt Hermione's fingernails graze his lower back he let his eyes close briefly for a second before feeling her press down onto him, the heat from her body radiating towards him. Her eyes captured his, holding his gaze as she always had. They stared at each other intently before Hermione, almost involuntarily rolled her hips forward and they both groaned, Harry feeling her mouth at his shoulder.

As they moved together Harry begun to memorise all the things he thought he already knew about her, her smell, the sound of her voice, the way she moved, all from a different perspective. The way she smelled when her hair was around his neck, her voice as it whispered and gasped, her body as it moved on top of him as if they had done this all of their life. She was new to him and yet, _not._

And then there was that small, insignificant part of his brain that was sitting there, opened mouthed and aghast at what was actually happening. This wasn't the time for romantic wooing or whispered conversations, neither Harry nor Hermione stopped to rationally talk out their feelings in a calm and sensible fashion.

As if confirming Harry's muted inner thoughts, Hermione took the moment to moan in his ear and his body reacted, her sounds filling him, driving him further over the edge. He let out a guttural growl and clutched her tighter, sliding her further up the wall as they moved. Her hands were everywhere, in his hair, at his hips, pulling him towards her, forcing them impossibly closer together.

'…_Harry_.'

Harry's eyes almost rolled back into his head and his body involuntary lurched forward at his name said so eagerly through Hermione's lips. Their passion grew wilder, faster, more erratic as he thrust into her over and over, her hands now grasping at the wall as if trying to find a hold on something. There was nothing that was not their bodies, there, completely entwined in each other, the world could have crumbled around them and they wouldn't have noticed. Harry felt Hermione clench her legs more tightly around him, her back arched and her eyes closed as she came, blissfully, beautifully. As he watched her he felt his own body come unhinged and they rode the descent together, foreheads towards each other, eyes locked.

Harry could hear his heart pounding haphazardly, catching up and then dropping back with hers, and there was a moment, unbelievably, that Harry untangled himself from her lips and thrust his head into her neck, her hair, shaking his head slowly, apparently from disbelief, he displayed what she felt. His words were muffled by her skin when she spoke.

'Hermione, _my_ Hermione, I love you, so much. _So_ much.'

Faintly, Harry thought he sensed her lips spreading into a small smile.

'I thought as much.'

* * *

*Lyrics – Guy Sebastian: Cover on my heart.


End file.
